The Unforeseen
by Authoressinhiding
Summary: Roles will be exchanged. Torture will take place. And Merry will never be the same again. Sequel to True Tale of the Grey Company.
1. Death and Adoption

**Disclaimer: All you recognize belongs to Tolkien. That which doesn't just so happens to belong to…that's right, folks. Me.**

**A/N: If you haven't read them already, go check out this story's three prequels, beginning with "Fan-girls and Elf-friends", "The Further Adventures of Merry L. Wood", and last but not least "The True Tale of the Grey Company". Otherwise this story will make no sense.**

* * *

The wolf paused, listening. Had he escaped the terrible monsters? Were they still after him?

Just then, two men ran into his alleyway. One held a big net, and the other grasped a long, unevenly shaped black rod. It was utterly unfamiliar.

The wolf backed up against the wall at the end of the alley and growled ferociously.

The man with the net got behind the other man, who slowly raised his long rod and pulled something on it. The wolf heard a _pop!_, and a small, feathered arrow came zooming towards him. Before he could move, it hit him, and everything went black.

* * *

"'Ello, this be Cap'n Jack. What can I do ye for?"

"Jack," sniffled a voice. "Jack!"

"Merry?" the boy asked in a completely different tone. "Merry, what is it?"

"Oscar got run over by a car," Merry sobbed. "We had to put him down."

"Oh, dear." Jack put the cell phone to his shoulder and looked at his girlfriend. He picked the phone back up. "Hey, Mer, where are you?"

"Dr. Murphy's."

"I'll be along _real_ soon. Just hang in there, luv, okay?"

"'Kay."

"What was that all about?" Amanda asked, looking up from her nails to her boyfriend's face as he closed his flip phone. "Jack, what is it? What did Meredith say?"

Jack sighed and ran his hands through his thick blond hair – a nervous trait. "Her dog died."

"How dreadful!" exclaimed Amanda, who for all her cheerleader-ness was a caring person at heart.

Jack nodded absent-mindedly. "Look, 'Manda, is it all right with you if I cut our date short and go see her?"

The cheerleader frowned slightly, but quickly wiped it from her face and said, "No, not at all. I'll drive myself home, Jack. See you tomorrow."

They both got up from their restaurant booth and headed outside, exchanging a quick kiss as they parted beside their cars.

Jack slid into the front seat of his Corvette and turned the keys in the ignition. Flooring the gas pedal, he drove as fast as he safely could to the local veterinarian's. The teenager was out of the car before it was fully off. Into the vet's office he ran with inhuman speed. Spotting a shaking figure in the lobby, he dashed to her. Jack gathered Merry into his arms. The tall, dark-haired girl let herself cry on his shoulder for a while before straightening up and wiping away her tears.

"It's just, well, we had Oscar for so long – seven years – and now he's gone, just like that."

"Shhh. Shhh. It'll be okay, Merry. You'll keep his memory in his heart forever. He will always be remembered. It's okay, Mer. You're going to be OK."

Merry bravely tried to smile. "I know, Jack, I know."

* * *

The flautist was still blubbery and upset that Friday. Extremely fed up, her section leader yelled at her.

"Get over it! It was just a dog!"

"Yeah, well, he was **my** dog," Merry growled at her, violet eyes flashing and teeth bared.

By the end of the day, Jack knew something had to be done. Merry was miserable, and it was affecting her playing and marching. After school he dragged her to his car (they had carpooled that morning).

"Get in," the sax player ordered.

Tentatively, Merry took the shotgun seat, as usual.

"Where are we going, Jack?" she asked.

"Pound," her friend replied, backing out into the parking lot.

"Why?"

"You need a dog. Something to keep you busy, anyways. I think Charice will kill you if you show up to the big rivalry game tonight in tears," Jack commented dryly as they sped down the highway.

"Oh." Merry paused. "What will my parents say?"

"They think it's a good idea. I called them during lunch." Jack received a punch to the shoulder for his remark.

They pulled into the pound's parking lot, and Jack hustled his friend out. They then speed-walked into the building.

Merry stepped into the large room filled with cages. Her grief for her dog was replaced by a sense of purpose. She could save at least one of these doomed animals. After walking up and down the rows of crates, the senior approached one of the workers.

"Um, could you bring me the animal closest to being euthanized?" she requested.

"Of course, miss," replied the man, and he gestured to a coworker. The two of them walked over to a large cage and opened the door slowly. A great dog – a wolf, actually – charged out and ran at the small group of workers around Merry and Jack.

"Stop!" yelled everyone but the girl.

Merry watched, heart in throat, as the wolf did not stop, but came on, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl of hatred.

"_Daro!_" cried the girl in a commanding tone.

Surprisingly, the wolf skidded to a halt before approaching her cautiously. It sniffed her hand and then, miraculously, its tail began to wag.

"Aw," Merry smiled as she petted the grey creature fondly. "He's so sweet. I want him."

"Are you sure, miss?" asked one of the workers, looking at the wolf nervously. "He isn't a kindly creature."

"I'll manage," Merry answered firmly.

The man shrugged. "Have it your way. There are a few papers to fill out, and it'll cost extra to have him neutered."

The wolf wined softly. Merry looked at him curiously.

"No thank you. I'll just take him to our vet later and fill out those papers now."

She pulled a purple pen from her pocket and signed the documents.

Then, "Will you require a collar and leash, Miss Wood?"

"Thank you. Do I need to return these?" the flautist asked as she buckled on the collar and then snapped the leash to it.

"No. You can keep 'em."

"Thanks again!" Jack called as he, Merry, and the wolf exited the pound and went out to his car. As Merry shooed the lupine into the seat, he asked, "Did you have to get the biggest animal in there?"

"Of course," she replied, sliding in and shutting her door. "Besides, isn't he just soooooo cute?"

"He is that," Jack admitted.

As she led her new pet out of the car and waved goodbye to Jack, Merry sighed. There was no telling what her parents would say when they saw her new pet. A dog they might have agreed to, but they certainly hadn't expected the huge wolf, she was sure.

_Don't worry about it, _said a voice in her mind.

Merry froze. What was that? Who was that?

Shrugging the odd feeling of mental invasion off, she ran into the house, leading the wolf to her bedroom. After a glance at her wristwatch, the senior groaned and began to change. School clothes were replaced by a black top and shorts, then she struggled into her marching "bibbers" and tied the laces of her white shoes. With a sigh, Merry sat and began to fix her hair.

The wolf glanced around him. The room was small, filled in one corner by a bunk bed and in the other by several bookcases. The walls, once a cobalt blue, were covered by posters of marching band, famous actors, and horses. A music stand stood by the lone window, immediately to the left of a small pine desk. A walk-in closet door was open, showing clothes neatly hung on hangers and organized shoes, backpacks, boxes of memorabilia, and other things. The wolf climbed up onto the lower bunk of the bunk bed and curled up after allowing the girl to remove his leash.

Unruly, shoulder-length hair now up in a ponytail, Merry grabbed her band bag and packed her jacket, hat, flute, and pep band music into it. Dashing off for a water bottle, she returned with a bowl of the precious liquid for the wolf, also. After checking her appearance one last time, Merry patted the wolf on the head and ran outside, just as someone honked a car horn out front.

Laughing, Merry scrambled into Jack's convertible.

"Happy now?" he asked as they drove to the band room.

"Oh, yes! I can't believe I have such a great new dog… oh, no. I'm gushing."

"Wolf," Jack corrected, parking and getting his saxophone from the trunk. "It – he's – a wolf. And don't worry about the gushing – it happens to the best of us."

"Whatever," the girl replied, carefree for the moment. "Oh, hi, Charice! How are you?" she asked her section leader with a bright, cheery smile.

Jack grasped her firmly by the elbow and dragged her to the band room door.

"Hyper," he mouthed to a flummoxed Charice, shoving his friend inside.

The football game was fun like Merry hadn't had in a long while. The band nerds were weirder than usual, and the drummers took special pleasure in messing up the cheerleaders on the cadences.

When Merry finally got home that night, she nodded to her little brother Alex. Alex, a freshman, had recently gotten his wisdom teeth out and was unable to play his trumpet. Merry was extremely happy about this and thanked God daily for it. Because he thought he'd feel left out if he couldn't play, Alex had stayed home from the game.

"Do Mom and Dad know how big your dog is?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"It's a wolf," Merry told him. "And they will…eventually."

"All right," Alex yawned and turned off the TV. "I gave him some hamburger. We had leftovers."

"Thank you," called his sister before she left for her own room.

As she opened the door and stepped inside, Merry gasped. There was no wolf in her room, but there _was_ a man, tall, slim, and blond.

* * *

**Author's Note: There it is! The first chapter of the fourth Merry story! Love it? Hate it? Wish it would turn into a gryphon? If you don't tell me, I won't know how you want me to improve it. (Or, feedback and reviews are VERY welcome). Flames will be used to bake pizzas.**

**AiH**


	2. Reunion and Remembrance

**Socks is Happy – Will ya leave my spleen alone? It's my spleen, for crying out loud! And maybe you should get another set of meds.**

**Ogreatrandom – Well, what's the fun in that? No fun, I tell you. No fun. I hate being ordinary.**

**Princess Abbie of Stars – So many questions and no answers from me…. Haha. **

**Ponysteph15 – Enough with the sugar. You and sugar scare me. **

**Tathren Lalaith – Or you THOUGHT it was Legolas. Funny, yes, for a while, but soon it won't be funny. It will be angsty.**

**Captain MeraSparrow – So how was that philly cheesesteak? Any good? SNORKEL!**

**Elflette – Bass drum, timpani, pphhh. Xylphone's the one for me. And our drummers are mostly good for laughing at.**

**HackerTawariell – I'll keep writing, if you keep reading.**

**TheDreamChild – Will you stop with the Desk Boy thing? Legs is no one's Desk Boy…. He's not even mine. He's just my Under the Bed Thingy…. Don't ask.**

**ProtectorofCanon2 – I never said that! Stop making guesses.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Yes, but that wasn't true character death. That was only pretend. And then Murtagh became evil… and I lost my crush… wahaaa… and the actor isn't even cute in the movie.**

**Time and Fate – Somehow, I thought you would.**

**Kay – Ha ha. I made you faint. So I laugh. Ha.**

**Disclaimer: As always, it all belongs to somebody else. – sigh – I wish it weren't so.**

* * *

"Ohmigosh," the senior whispered and then mentally whacked herself about the head for having used such an expression.

Hearing her entrance, the man whirled, saw her, and smiled, his teeth dazzlingly white.

"Who are you?" she asked warily, looking around for a weapon. "What have you done with my dog?"

The man came closer, closer. Heart pounding madly, Merry noticed for the first time his pointed ears.

"Be gone, fiend!" she shouted, and then her old training and instincts took over. The girl dashed to her closet door and withdrew the wooden practice sword that had lain there, untouched, for several years. Raising it into the guard position, she swung around to face the man.

Before she could attack, however, his hand shot out and grabbed her right wrist. With inhuman strength, he forced her to drop the weapon and pulled her towards him. Merry fought for a moment, but her opponent was too strong. She took slow, halting steps toward him. The man took her hand and placed it on his chest. The girl felt a curious scar and ran her fingers along it, tracing the lengthy of his breastbone. Then, as if by some untold instinct, she dropped to one knee and felt for a scar on his thigh. Finding it, Merry rose and walked unsteadily over to her bunk bed, where she sank down onto the lower bunk.

"Legolas?" she murmured weakly, looking up into the face of the elf – for elf she now knew it was.

"Meredith Lee Wood," replied the elf somberly.

The senior collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the bottom of the top bunk.

"But you're not real," she mumbled. "It was a dream, just a dream, and you're just a book character."

Legolas slowly walked over to her.

"Merry," he began.

"You aren't real," she insisted. "You're only a figment of my imagination."

"Gelireth, Gelireth, Gelireth," the elf sighed, sitting down on the bed beside her.

"Don't you triple-Gelireth me!" snapped the girl, instantaneously reverting back to her thirteen- year-old self. "I can dye your hair blue, Legolas Thranduilion." Realizing what she'd said, Merry moaned. "Oh, no. You are real. They were real."

"They?" asked the elf, smiling now. "Nice room, by the way."

"Thanks," replied the senior absently. "My Middle-earth dreams. After the War of the Ring, I couldn't return to Middle-earth, no matter how hard I tried. After a while, I just gave up and called them dreams. I'm not the same as I was at thirteen, Legolas. I've changed a great deal."

The girl stood and pulled off her marching pants. As the two friends talked, she unpacked her band bag and cleaned her room – a nervous habit.

"For example…?" pressed the elf.

"One, I am not as in love with fantasy as I used to be." Merry purposefully avoided looking at her bookshelves as she said this. "Two, I haven't hand an archery or fencing lesson in years. And three, well, I'm a different person."

Legolas snorted, "The old Merry is down there, deep down, perhaps, but down there still. She threatened to dye my hair a minute ago."

Merry groaned and leaned against the bunk bed. "My life is such a mess right now. Actually, it's been a mess for the last four years." _Since I last saw you and the twins, _she added silently.

"Well, why don't you let it all out and tell me about it?" suggested the elf.

"Hold the phone!" The senior darted into her closet and returned a few minutes later wearing long pajama bottoms and an oversize Gollum T-shirt.

Legolas gave the shirt a long, weird look.

"What?" Merry asked, noticing his gaze. "Oh. That. OK, maybe I haven't changed all that much."

She climbed up to the top bunk and settled herself comfortably, sitting cross-legged. Legolas followed.

"So, how have the years treated you?" she asked.

"Your news first."

"Very well. I've gotten good grades, stayed in band, and managed to keep Jack Shetland as my best friend. Apart from that… I haven't really done anything." Merry suddenly sighed. "Jack's dating the cheerleading captain – I'll explain that one later – and, I don't know why, but it's making me miserable."

Legolas thought he knew but said nothing.

Merry sighed again. "Well, that's all my news. What about you?"

"You want to know how I got here, don't you?"

The senior nodded.

"Well, the last thing I can remember in Middle-earth was running – in wolf-form – through the Pelennor Fields. I blinked and found myself in your … town… I think that's the word for it. Anyway, monsters, like the one we rode in to get here, chased me. Men climbed out of it, and they kept chasing me. They shot me with something…"

"A tranquilizer," his audience breathed.

"Yes. After it hit me, everything went black."

_Somehow, it always seems to happen that way, _Merry thought.

They sat in silence for a while until suddenly Merry sighed. She was older than she had been back in her Middle-earth-visiting days, and some things she had once done with ease now felt extremely awkward. Sitting this close to Legolas for instance. Wearing pajamas in his presence. And as to what people would say if they found out he was staying in her room! The girl didn't dare even consider the matter. She gave the elf an embarrassed look from out of the corner of her eye, feeling the warmth of a blush spread across her cheeks. The senior hoped he wouldn't see. In strict accordance with Murphy's Law, he did.

"What's wrong?" Legolas asked concernedly.

"Oh, nothing." Merry inwardly whacked herself on the forehead as an important fact came to mind. Legolas **always** knew when she was lying.

"What is it?" the elf pressed. He touched her hand, and the girl jumped slightly. "Ah."

Merry silently berated herself. She could have managed to keep her discomfort hidden from him, but now he knew.

Legolas leapt lightly down form the top bunk and looked up at his friend. Their eyes locked in an awkward stare. Merry broke eye contact first, but it was Legolas who sighed deeply.

"So you cannot be at ease with me, you who used to be the one who offended **my** modesty?" he said calmly. "You have grown older, but so have I. In fact, you are still as young to me as you were when last we met. Apparently, however, you have aged much in your world and find my presence here to be an inconvenience. Did you ever pause to consider how I might feel, being stranded in a place I know nothing about and being forced to depend on a child to get home?" Legolas sank down onto the lower bunk, his head in his hands.

Feeling ashamed of her behavior, the flautist hopped down to the ground and walked over to him.

"Legolas, I'm sorry," she began, but then changed tacks. Glancing over at her clock, she sighed. "Legs, it's almost midnight. Why don't we both get some sleep? We can talk about this in the morning and figure out what to do then, okay?"

The elf nodded slowly.

"And, until we figure that out," Merry continued, "I can teach out about my world."

"Oh, joy," the elf muttered, already under the covers. His shoes, tunic, belt, and weapons lay on the floor within easy reach. "I get to sample the delights of the place that produced you. That ought to be **extremely** diverting."

"Uh huh." Merry shot him a searching look. "Right after we get your some new clothes."

After turning off the light, she clambered up to the top bunk and turned in.

"Night, Legs," she called down to the elf.

"For the last time, Gelireth, **don't** call me Legs!" came his indignant answer from below.

Chuckling, Merry rolled over. In what seemed like no time at all, she was asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: I feel it my duty to warn you that this story has absolutely no plot whatsoever - none that I'm willing to admit, anyways. That being said, I hope you continue to read and enjoy it. As always, reviews are appreciated, and flames will be used to roast marshmallows during snowdays... of which we just had two in a row! I love snow...**

**AiH**


	3. Getting Reacquainted

**Ogreatrandom – That will be very interesting, indeed, I can assure you.**

**Childofthekng – Love the sarcasm. You can defeat many a Sue with it. And mirrors that show them for what they really are… but I can't say things like that.**

**Tathren Lalaith – After awhile, she convinced herself that the adventures had just been dreams, perhaps to lessen the pain of being denied of her best friends. She couldn't take the despair and so told herself it hadn't been real until she believed it.**

**Stargirl29 – I'm trying to update every other week, but if I can, I'll update sooner.**

**Time and Fate – I hadn't thought of that at the time, but now I think about it, she really did. Go Merry!**

**Protector of Canon2 – Mebbe. Mebbe not.**

**Helen – Yay! You're back! I'm glad to know you're still reading. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. About the never-knowing-what-will-happen-next, half the time _I_ don't know what's going to happen! That's why I love writing these stories; they always surprise me.**

**Ponysteph15 – It could be interesting, if it happened, but hard to explain.**

**TheDreamChild – I think I've answered most of the questions in your review, so I ask one of my own: when are you going to update Randomishedness?**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Well, they may make it 'Plot-full' in your opinion, but I really have no idea of the plot at any given moment. I may know where it will end, and what will happen at some point in the middle, but other than that – shrug – It's all up to the Plot Bunnies. As to the Animaniacs fic, I wrote that one for a friend. I had the plot bunny. I don't have another Animaniacs plot bunny, but as soon as I catch hold of a decent one, I _will_ write it.**

**Kay – And this is why we _don't _do bio homework around slobbery dogs. Savvy?**

**Ames – You sound quite hyper… it's scaring me, mate.**

**Disclaimer: Ehem. – coughcough – Talk to that thing.**

**Fell Beast: - stare – **

**AiH: – jabpoke – Go on. Proclaim my innocence.**

**Fell Beast: - screeches –**

**AiH: He said – evil grin – that I own nothing and that he wants to eat somebody. Any volunteers?**

* * *

Merry was woken early the next morning by a wet, rough tongue. 

"Snaga!" she shrieked, attempting to whack the wolf.

He backed out of arm's reach and changed into Legolas.

"You do know I could take that the wrong way, don't you?" Merry asked with annoyance. "The face-licking and all."

Legolas merely laughed. At first, the flautist attempted to look angry, but soon she was laughing as well.

Sighing, Legolas became serious and said, "You mentioned getting me new clothes."

"Mmmhmm." Merry yawned. Instead of pushing past the elf, she jumped down from the bed and vanished into the closet.

"We'll steal something from Alex," she told him when she had pulled on jeans and an old hoodie.

"Alex?"

"My little brother," replied the senior. "He's about your size or a bit bigger. Hang on."

Legolas didn't feel like waiting, however, so he changed forms and trotted along after her, tail waving jauntily in the air.

_Oh, my …Valar, this place smells!_

Merry sniffed. _Ew. You're right. It does stink. _She ran to her brother's closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. _I am _not _touching his underwear. You'll just have to … wait… we do laundry tonight. I'll snatch you a clean pair then._

_Fine._

The two dashed back into Merry's room. She tossed her brother's clothes into the closet and shoved the wolf inside. A minute later, Legolas emerged. He shot Merry a dirty look as the girl started laughing.

"I can't help it, mate!" she wheezed between laughs. "You just look so funny!"

It was true. The jeans were far tighter than anything Legolas was used to, and he kept pulling them up or down, depending on how discomfited he felt. The T-shirt was rather short, and his stomach showed if he so much as raised one arm. But, more than these, it was the look of supreme discomfort and embarrassment on his face that had Merry convulsing with giggles.

"Can we just move along?" he asked grumpily.

"Ok." Merry managed to control her laughter. "I am going to give you a cultural lesson."

The elf groaned.

"We'll start," Merry beamed, completely thirteen again, " with _Lord of the Rings_."

Legolas gasped.

"You deserve to see how film has told your tale," Merry admonished. Then another thought occurred to her. "Wait. It's almost half a day in length. Instead, we'll watch _Phantom of the Opera_."

"That does _not_ sound good," murmured the elf.

"Oh, you'll love it – I do, at any rate." Merry could not keep from grinning.

Five minutes into the movie, Legolas groaned. "Why is she singing? You can't sing!" he howled at the TV.

"Stop, stop, stop." Merry put a hand on his shoulder. "One, it's a movie. They cannot hear you." The two of them were sitting on the lower bunk bed, watching the movie on Merry's laptop, which was sitting pretty on Legolas's lap. "Two, we all know she can't sing. There's no need to shout it."

He sighed. "All right, Gelireth. I'll be quiet. Please forgive me."

"Already done, luv."

"Merry!" the elf burst out a few minutes later.

"What?"

"Why do you sing?"

"Because I used to love this movie. I listened to it _all_ the time."

"Do you have to sing?"

"You know it."

The rest of the movie passed with few distinctions. Legolas was shocked to hear of the insinuations the music carried, and his jaw hit the floor when the mooning occurred.

"Oh my heavens… Merry, this doesn't bother you at all?"

"Not really."

"Your society is so different from mine. Where I come from … Let me but say that folk here are both more and less sensitive, if what I have seen this morning is a good example of them. They cannot stand trifling pain, yet they undergo so much mental …"

"Trash?" Merry suggested, violet eyes flicking upwards to glance at the elf curiously.

"Exactly. Trash. Their minds are dirty, their morals low. Tell me, Merry, is all your world like this?"

She flushed, embarrassed, and looked at the floor.

"Some, Legolas. Not all is, you know."

"No, perhaps not."

After PotO was finished, Merry and Legolas worked their way through _Corpse Bride _and the first installment of PotC. Legolas watched with open amusement as Merry danced to "Remains of the Day" and acted out the more swashbuckling moments of PotC, including dialogue and sword strokes. As the credits rolled on Pirates, the elf switched forms.

_Hungry._

_What?_

_I have not eaten anything real for a while, and we have been watching 'movies' all day._

_Oh… Animal or vegetable?_

_Excuse me?_

_Er, what do you want to for brunch…lupper… whatever meal we're at now…?_

_Food._

_No duh, Sherlock._

The wolf didn't even bother to look confused at this remark. _I really don't care, Gelireth. Anything that won't make me sick, I suppose._

_Like fish?_

_No… I don't really like fish._

_Pizza?_

_What's 'pizza'?_

_It'll be cold, but hang on…no, it won't._

_What is it, Merry, you flighty-minded creature._

_Crust, cheese, and meat._

_A pasty?_

_No, but you'll like it. Come with me._

Walking along behind her, the wolf sighed.

_What time is it, anyway?_

_Well, _Merry glanced at her watch, _technically, it's around lunch._

She ran into the kitchen and microwaved several slices of pizza. The wolf settled back onto its haunches and stared at all the appliances – things he had never encountered. Merry saw his turning head and sighed. In her heart, she knew there was no way on earth that she would be able to explain everything he would want to know.

_Come on, kid._

They dashed back to her room, and divvied up the hot food.

"This is, er, interesting," remarked Legolas, now in his elven form, quite dryly.

"I love it," Merry replied with a smile. Implied, but unsaid, was "And someday you will, too."

The elf sighed. "I am so unsuited for … I don't know how to … Everything is so … I can't …"

Wordlessly, Merry got up and grabbed a huge book from off her shelf. Wrestling with it, she staggered over to Legolas and plopped it in his lap.

"History book," she panted. "Read. I've got to finish my homework."

The elf nodded, muttering under his breath so she couldn't hear, "It's a good thing I can read."

"When you've finished that one, there's an encyclopedia or two you can look at. I've got to proofread my report."

Already absorbed in the book, Legolas nodded again. Smiling, Merry strode over to her desk and pulled a folder out of the red messenger bag slung over the back of her chair.

"Ok, let's see," she said quietly to herself. "We need to find a synonym for 'unpredictable'."

"Merry!" Legolas turned towards her just long enough to roll his eyes and then give her an exasperated look.

"Sorry. I will attempt to be quiet." The girl tried to look chagrined and failed.

The elf snorted. "Sure. By the way, 'chimera' means 'ferociously unpredictable'. I read through your dictionary last night."

Merry sighed. "And you didn't ask me?"

"If I recall correctly, you were dreaming. You kept muttering 'David, I love you'. You said some _very_ interesting things about people named Viggo, Orlando, and William as well," he said quietly, the book blocking all sight of his face.

Merry snapped around, mouth open and cheeks blazing. She was _highly _embarrassed, to say the least. "Legolas!" she shrieked. "How could you?"

"How could I what?" Legolas asked innocently, pulling the book even closer to his face so she couldn't see his laughter.

"I can't believe you listened to all that. Hey, I can't believe I still talk in my sleep," Merry murmured this last bit to herself, biting her lip as she wrote in corrections in red ink.

"Meh. Weren't you going to try and be quiet?" Legolas questioned quietly.

"Oh, yes."

A silence that lasted for perhaps five minutes commenced. It was broken by music. Exasperated, Legolas put the history book down (he'd been reading about Egypt) and glanced at Merry. The noise was coming from her.

"What have I told you about theme music, Merry?"

"Er…" the girl looked up from her paper, very confused. "I don't remember covering the topic."

"Come to mention it, neither do I, but please stop humming. That tune has driven me to the brink of insanity more times than I care to mention."

"Oh… this one?" Merry began to hum.

"Aye. That one."

"The Mission Impossible theme," she mused. "That's very interesting."

"Merry, what time is it?" 

"Three-thirty," she replied, yawning and stretching.

He sighed. "It's been a long day."

"Hey, Legs, would you like to go outside?"

"Outside?" the elf's eyes brightened, and he let the heavy text slide from his lap to the carpet.

"Yeah." Merry stood up and pushed her chair in. "We've got a pasture out back and a horse or two. You would have to be my pet, though. I'm not allowed to have boys over without permission," she said in a ponderous tone.

Legolas nodded. "Any form is fine," he said cheerfully and changed shapes, rising as he did so.

The wolf shook his head, sniffing the air and looking curiously around him.

_Can we go now?_

_Of course, mate._

_Then make haste, girl!_

Laughing softly, the seventeen-year-old opened her door and proceeded to lead the way out the back door. It was a mere ten yards to a small red metal barn and a large pasture.

_I love living on the edge of town, _Merry thought happily. _So much freedom._

_The wind, _thought the wolf, his tongue lolling out of his open mouth. _The wind!_

Human and lupine glanced at each other and in that moment felt a complete understanding.

"Yippee!" screamed Merry as the two took off, racing to the pasture's gate. As she opened it, the wolf rushed in and stood, prancing, while she latched it.

"Cajeta!" she called, and a red dun gelding came trotting up. He shot the wolf one baleful look but otherwise ignored him completely.

_Not spooky, is he?_

_No, Legs. I've had him for eight years now. My baby's calm as anything on the ground; he just refuses to be ridden._

_Perhaps I shall try to ride him. Now, I fear, is not the time._

_No, it isn't._ Merry stroked her gelding on the neck thoughtfully. _Would you like to go exploring?_

_Of course. I would enjoy seeing your town._

_Hang on, then, luv._

Merry vaulted over the fence and ran inside. She came out a few minutes later sliding something into the back pocket of her jeans and carrying two other things in her hands.

The wolf wriggled under the fence, dodging a kick from the gelding as he ran.

_What are those? _he asked apprehensively.

_This, _Merry held up one of the items, _is a collar. The other one is a leash._

_Are you going to put them on me? _The look on the wolf's face was one of supreme distaste.

_Well, yes._

_Why? _Legolas was angry now and hurt. _Why must I be chained?_

_Not chained. Leashed. There's a law in town. If you don't go leashed, we both suffer. They might even attempt to take you away._

_I don't like it – _

_You don't have to like it, Legolas Thranduilion._

_But I'll do it, _he finished, giving the girl a firm look.

_Good. Very good. And, Legs?_

_Yes?_

_Thank you._

Merry slid the collar over his head and clipped on the leash. They had places to go and people to terrify.

_

* * *

And that's the school._

_Really? What do they teach you there?_

_English, math, science, history, art, music, sports, a few foreign languages… the usual._

_Oh. No magic or archery? _The wolf looked both interested and put out.

_No fighting at all, if it can be helped. It's not something they want us to learn._

_Your world _is _strange – as strange as you, actually, though I find I think your variety of strangeness as far superior. Why won't that monster – car, I mean – leave us alone? _Legolas hissed with sudden vehemence.

Merry stopped and whirled. A familiar blue Corvette was tailing them. Pulling a silver flip phone from her pocket, the exasperated girl pressed a key and glared pointedly at the phone.

_I am _so _going to kill him._

_Who? _asked the wolf with perked interest.

"Jackson Thomas Shetland!" she shrieked into the phone, answering his question. "That had better not be giggling I hear."

Dropping the wolf's leash, Merry stamped over to the car, which was pulling up to the curb beside them.

"Jackson Thomas," she began, but her rebuke was cut off by growling.

The wolf had come up behind Merry, and for some unknown reason, he began growling the instant he saw Jack and the cheerleaders filling his car.

"Oy, Mer, what's up with your mutt?" Jack asked with a laugh.

The lupine snapped at him, showing very long, sharp white teeth and pink gums.

_What are you doing, Thranduilion?_ Merry thought with considerable annoyance.

At the same time, Jack jerked his hand back. "Whoa, Merry! Calm him!"

The cheerleaders tittered nervously, not noticing the dark look in Merry's eyes and the snarl on the lips of her companion.

"Merry?" Jack ventured tentatively as she made no movement to soothe the wolf.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, placing one hand on the wolf's head.

_Behave, _she told him silently at the same moment.

_Why?_

_Because I told you to. That's why._

_Do you have any idea how odd it is to hear _you _saying that to _me

_Aye, luv. We've come a long was since… since…_

_Since Middle-earth._

"Merry, can you control your animal or not?" one of the cheerleaders giggled. The high school girls did _not _like the look of the fierce creature that came all the way up to gangly Merry's waist.

"Control him?" the girl murmured softly and dangerously. "I'm still wondering why you were following us for four blocks."

Jack looked surprised. "How'd you know?"

"Oh, a little bird told me," the senior replied coyly, stroking the wolf's head as she did so.

The wolf growled once more, and the fur on his chest and the back of his neck puffed out.

"Eh, Mer, we're going to go now. Could you let go of the car, please?"

The girl looked slightly embarrassed and stepped back as her pet growled again.

"We will talk later," she mouthed to Jack.

He nodded gravely as she shut the door and walked back to the sidewalk.

_What was all that growling for? _Merry asked the wolf as they headed towards her home.

_I don't like him. I just don't. He just … ugh. _The wolf shook and sighed. _Can we try to find me a way home? I want to return to my land. My people. My life._

_We can try, Legs, but I don't know._

"You could always go home," said the elf quietly. While Merry had been staring at the ground, he'd switched shapes and unbuckled the collar.

"I'm different, Legs," Merry replied softly, taking the collar from him and sighing. "Well, that was. I was asleep, and it was a type of dream. Your situation, now, I don't know how to cure it. But you want to go home."

"More than anything," Legolas replied firmly, emerald eyes fixed on her face. "I do not like your world."

Glancing at him, the senior sensed he was close to a breakdown.

"There, there," she soothed, slipping an arm around his waist. "It'll be okay, Legolas. You'll see."

"I want to go home," he whispered, a single, pearly tear sliding down his cheek, leaving a shining track in its wake, as they walked quickly towards Merry's house. "I want Middle-earth. I want to see my stars, my forest, my family, and my friends again."

"You will, Legolas, you will," Merry comforted, but inside she was not so sure. What if the elf couldn't get home? What if he stayed with her forever?

* * *

**Author's Note: That is quite possibly the longest chapter I have ever written for ANY story. I hope you appreciate it. It is my Christmas present to my dear readers. Reviews are always desired, and flames will be used to burn my Yule log... which exists only in my mind, oddly enough. O.o Carl! Sorry... saw Van Helsing last night... Carl rocks.**

**Your Friendly Internet**

**Authoressinhiding**


	4. Sharing the Secret

**Tathren Lalaith – Yes, I know, poor Leggy. But he will manage to recover; he always does. Don't worry. This, too, shall pass.**

**Stargirl29 – Don't we all? Except possibly Jack; he doesn't get along very well with Merry's new pet… but I oughtn't give away things. **

**Ogreatrandom – Trust me. It gets funnier.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Interesting shirt idea. I ran it past the elf, and he fell over laughing. Just goes to show you how badly Sues can change a character.**

**Socks is Yummy – I can beat that hands down. I was either A) in an airport or B) on an airplane for about 11 hours. NOT FUN. I didn't get home till 4:30 in the morning. AiH was _not _happy.**

**TheDreamChild – Carl pwns. I must watch that movie once more before I return it. "You can't curse – you're a monk!" "Actually, I'm just a friar. I can curse all I want." Carl rocks my fuzzy pink socks – and he's played by Daisy Wenham.**

**Ponysteph15 – I do love it when I twist the stories and leave you curious. Never fear; this story will only get more twisted as it goes along.**

**Kay – Why should I? Is it illegal for Legolas to cry, eh?**

**Liverwurst – FINALLY! I am _so _glad you're back. Why do you think of Beckett when I say William? You should be thinking TURNER and drooling. Beckett is just creepy. The girl jeans part is yours, luv. All yours.**

**Teh Captain – I hope not. And if it is, well, hopefully it's from someone else's writing instead of my own.**

**Time and Fate – See reply to TheDreamChild. Yes, the Authoress has a deep and disturbing interest in Carl. – sniff – I just can' help it.**

**RespectTheSporks - I am sorry it takes me so long, but I really do try.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Merry – and she only stays when she feels like it. Oh… and Jack. But someone else can have him today. He's getting on my nerves.**

* * *

Upon reaching Merry's house, Legolas, once again in wolf form, slunk into her bedroom and curled up on her lower bunk. Head on his paws, he looked terribly depressed and sighed deeply as Merry came in and sat down beside him.

"We really need to buy you some better clothes, Legs," Merry commented, pulling the elastic out of her hair. "I've got to run to the, ah, facilities, but when I get back, we'll go into town, okay?"

Legolas, an elf again, nodded disconsolately.

When Merry returned, she found him stretched out on her floor, considerably more relaxed and comfortable than when she had left him, reading the history book. The senior considered this puzzle for a moment before noticing something about his jeans she hadn't noticed before. The designs on the back pockets were oddly familiar.

"Legs, are those mine?" Merry asked, torn between exasperation and laughter.

The elf flopped over onto his back and met her eyes, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Yes," Legolas admitted quietly.

"Why are you wearing girl jeans?"

"Well… the, er, trousers belonging to your brother were, ah, extremely, ah, excruciating, and I thought… well, if there was any way to, er, relieve my, ah, condition, I would, er, take it. And your, ah, trousers seemed, ah, larger than, ah, those of your, ah, sibling, so I helped myself, sure you would not, ah, hold it against me."

Unable to control herself any longer, Merry collapsed on the floor, convulsing with laughter.

"That," she took a deep breath to calm herself, "is one of the funniest things I have ever seen."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing to do with you, Legs. Some of the, ah, more, well, out there, I guess, guys at school wear tight girl jeans. Though you shouldn't say a girl is larger than her brother; she could take offence."

"Merry, if you are under the impression that wear girl's clothes to please my own twisted fancy, then you are very much mistaken." Quickly, Legolas changed into wolf's shape and took hold of the girl's pant leg.

_And therefore we must find me trousers of my own that are not either the wrong size or a ruddy girl's. Agreed?_

_Agreed, _Merry thought amiably, still grinning. _If you'll climb out the window, I'll have the car ready to go in five minutes. Don't worry about the screen,_ she added conspiratorially. _It's been gone since I was ten. Mom was a little mad when she found out, but she's had seven years to get over it. See you in five._

With that, the girl snatched her blue purse and slipped out the door.

Sighing, Legolas opened the window and easily climbed out. A large green SUV was parked by the curb, and he rushed to it, scrambling in as Merry opened the front passenger side door.

"Where are we going?" he asked, a new light in his eyes. Being sneaky always made Legolas smile.

"The Wal-Mart downtown," she told him, pulling away from the curb. "I swear, they're planning to take over the world."

Legolas blanched. "And we're buying from them?"

"Figuratively, Legs. Not literally."

Two hours later, the car pulled up against the curb, and a slight figure slid out of the front seat, ran to a window, and disappeared into the house. The driver of the car parked and walked into the house, arms full of shopping bags.

"Merry, where have you been all day?" her father asked with a hint of annoyance as she walked past the living room.

"Um…" Merry thought quickly before deciding to go with the truth. "I've been around. Doing homework, watching movies, going shopping."

"Are you out of money again, now?" her mother wondered curiously.

The senior winced. "Almost, but I've got my old job back at the one Mexican place… can never remember the name."

"They only pay minimum wage, darling," sniffed Mrs. Wood. "I've told you time and time again that you would make more by doing nails at the beauty shop."

"Nonsense," cut in Mr. Wood. "You ought to mow lawns, kiddo."

Merry shook her head violently. "Neither of those would suit me, I fear." Anxious to make a quick getaway, she queried, "Where's Alex?"

"Over at Sam's," replied her mother absently. "Would you like to watch this movie with us?"

Merry shivered at the mention of the teenager who had proposed to her so many years ago. "No thanks, Mom." She faked a yawn. "I've got to put this stuff up."

"Ok, then, if you're sure."

Smiling, the seventeen-year-old walked to her room and tossed the bags to an impatient Legolas, who immediately shut himself in her closet. The elf emerged a moment later looking far more comfortable than she'd seen him in days. He gave her Alex's top and her jeans and sighed.

"Feel better?" Merry asked, grinning.

"Incredibly so," Legolas performed a 360° turn, showing off his new, loose jeans and long-sleeved, button-down shirt.

As Merry took his borrowed things to the laundry room, the wood elf folded his other new clothes and placed them neatly in an empty dresser drawer of hers.

"Good," the girl remarked upon returning. "It's eight now. Want me to try and get you home?"

"That would be most helpful," Legolas told her earnestly, a pleading light in her eyes.

"Very well." Merry snatched a notebook from her desk and began scribbling. "First, will yourself awake and in Middle-earth – wherever you were when you left."

The elf nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating on his world and the Pelennor Fields. When he opened them, however, he was still in Merry's bedroom.

"Well, that certainly didn't work," the girl sighed.

"Obviously," her friend muttered.

"So we'll have to try something else," she continued optimistically.

"Of course, Merry," Legolas replied caustically. "And just what do you propose doing?"

"I don't know," Merry admitted sheepishly, massaging her temples. "Give me a day or two, though, and I'll have something planned."

"As you will," the elf said quietly. "I'm exhausted."

The senior nodded in agreement. She was also distressed by their inability to get Legolas home.

"Tomorrow's another day," Legolas went on, a bit more hopeful. "Perhaps…"

Merry nodded again. Perhaps tomorrow they could discover a means of returning the elf to his home. If not, there were many more days and many more ways.

"Legolas," she began slowly, "I really wanted to get you home tonight. I'm sorry it didn't work out tonight. Maybe it will tomorrow."

He smiled sadly. "Perhaps."

"At any rate," Merry yawned as she climbed up to the top bunk, "I've got to go to church tomorrow, and I can't bring my pet wolf. So you're going to have to stay here alone."

"All right," Legolas replied softly, turning of the lights and walking over to his bunk in the dark.

Merry sighed, and she could have sworn she heard Legolas do the same.

The next day, the two established their daily routine. While Merry was out at school or church, Legolas would read or watch movies. When she was home, they mostly talked, took walks, or tried to find a way to return him to Middle-earth. Their methods ranged from reciprocating the elf's actions immediately before arriving in Merry's world to saying nonsense words while burning candles and knocking Legolas unconscious.

Fridays and Saturdays were special. On Friday nights, Legolas, in wolf-form of course, accompanied Merry's parents to football games. He would sit in the stands with them, watching all that occurred with keen eyes. They also brought him to marching contests. Sometimes after her band had played, Merry hung out with a large wolf, but more often her friends found her in the company of a dashingly handsome man – Legolas.

Each time, Alex shot his sister and her friend one curious look and then ignored them, supposing the elf belonged to some other school's marching band. Jack Shetland, however, was another matter. Seeing his best friend hanging out with Legolas rubbed him the wrong way for some unknown reason. He became such a nuisance about it that at length (and after much discussion with Legolas) Merry determined that it was the time to tell him.

"He needs to know," she told Legolas with a sigh worthy of an old grandmother.

The elf, sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk, looked apprehensive. After a moment's consideration, however, he nodded thoughtfully.

"You're right."

It had been three weeks since his appearance in Merry's town, and they had yet to get him home, but that was not from lack of trying. It was five o'clock on Tuesday, and band practice was at six, so Merry was sure Jack would be home. With heavy heart, she picked up the phone, called Jack, and asked him to come over. She spent the five minutes until his arrival pacing the floor nervously. Legolas buried his head in his hands and thought.

When at last she heard the doorbell ring, Merry dashed out the door. The elf lifted his head and longed for Middle-earth.

"Why'd you ask me over, Mer?" Jack asked curiously. His face darkened when he entered her room and spotted Legolas. "What's he doing here?"

The senior girl sighed somewhat sadly and took his arm.

"Jack, dear," she began slowly, "there's something I have to tell you. This person here isn't who you think he is."

"Oh, and who is he then?" Jack demanded antagonistically.

"I am Legolas Thranduilion, lord of the elves of Southern Ithilien," Legolas declared, rising gracefully.

Even to Merry, he looked menacing and every bit as noble and royal as was his blood. She wondered if he'd been taking lessons from Aragorn, but dismissed it as a mere thought.

"You're joking," Jack stammered uncertainly, for he could see the pointed tips of the elf's ears. "You must be mad."

"We are not joking or mad," Legolas said softly.

"I'm leaving!" Jack turned to do so, but Merry caught his arm and restrained him.

"Wait," she implored gently.

"There is one more thing," the elf was saying clearly. "I am a shape shifter." And with that, he slid in and out of his wolf's shape with ease.

"This isn't happening," Jack muttered, and he passed out.

"Well, that was unexpected," Legolas commented sarcastically as Merry grabbed the glass of water on her desk and dumped it over Jack's face.

"To you, maybe," she replied wearily.

The young man got to his feet, looking shaken.

"Is he really?" he asked Merry quietly.

"Yes," she answered solemnly. "He really is Legolas Thranduilion. He's also a shape shifter."

"I saw that one," Jack reminded her. "So that wolf we got you was … was… Legolas."

"Yes," both told him.

Jack groaned and listened as they explained the whole, long, drawn-out story. Like Merry, he had come to think her dreams merely dreams. Finding out that they had been real came as quite a large shock.

"This can't be real," he murmured to himself. "It just can't be!"

"It is real," Legolas sighed. "It's real, and I am stuck here in your world."

"We'll get you back," the senior reassured him. "It'll be a piece of cake. Right, Merry?"

His friend sighed and disappeared into her closet. She came out a minute later with a stack of paper.

Shoving it into Jack's hands, Merry laughed mirthlessly. "That stack encompasses all the things we've tried. Ideas are going to be hard to find – the new ones, that is."

Jack settled himself on the floor and began sifting through the papers, occasionally murmuring things such as "Ouch," "Nice idea," and "Wowzers". When at last he finished, the senior gave Legolas and Merry a long look.

"You two really have thought this out, haven't you?" he breathed.

"Oy…" Merry moaned. "Are you only just now getting it? YES!"

"So…" Legolas drawled, looking up from the book in his lap, "do you have any ideas?"

"Maybe," Jack Shetland replied slowly, flipping through the papers quickly. "Aha! I've got it!"

"What?" Merry asked curiously, grabbing her notebook, whipping out a pen, and preparing to write down all suggestions.

"We could …" he thought hard. "We could," the young man began again. "We could…"

"Yes?" prompted Legolas gently.

Merry was not half so patient. "Spit it out, mate."

"We could try to figure out _why_ Legolas got here, do whatever it is he's supposed to do, and then he can go home."

Legolas and Merry shared an exasperated look behind his back.

"Come on," Jack urged. "Let's do it."

"Fine. Go ahead," Merry grumbled.

They had a short ten-minute conference, and Jack was happily taking the reins of the operation by its end. Legolas was quietly amused by his behavior, and Merry was inwardly rolling her eyes.

_Why does he always do this? _she thought disparagingly as Jack ordered a prayer to Eru.

"This isn't going to work," Legolas's dancing blue eyes seemed to say, "but we're going along anyways, Merry."

Gritting her teeth, Merry held Jack's and Legolas's hands as instructed by the former and chanted along with them, "Oh, Illuvatar, we ask you to show us your will and help us to do it."

Of all the three, only Jack truly believed that their prayer would work. Perhaps his pleading was enough, or maybe the Valar were paying extra attention to the three of them. Whatever the case, Jack, Legolas, and Merry found themselves suddenly spinning out of control. They landed somewhere with a thud, and blackness settled over them.

* * *

**Author's Note: - evil laugh - Deal with that, my pretties! And leave teh Authoress some feedback, if you would. I've gone insane with getting out of school at 10:30 due to ice. But at least I got to go to jazz band and concert... As always, reviews are appreciated, and flames will be used to keep my house warm if the electricity goes out. Let's all pray it doesn't.**

**Until next time, **

**Authoressinhiding**


	5. Watched

**PippinBaggins – Wow. What a Pippinish thing to say. Do you think Legolas and Merry were doing something untoward whilst sharing a bedroom? I am quite shocked. Mind out of the gutter, young grasshopper.**

**Childofthekng – I suppose so. Not really sure yet. Maybe I'll know by the end of the story. Maybe not.**

**Aranel Cugedhiel – I know. Of all the things they tried, that seems the least likely.**

**TheDreamChild – Bodyguards? Plotting something? How simply awful!**

**Ogreatrandom – What kind of AiH would I be if everything I wrote was to be expected? I couldn't hold my head up in proper society.**

**Tathren Lalaith – Taking it rather well? Maybe for now…**

**Stargirl29 – Not too much of a cliffie, as cliffies go, but rest assured I am updating as soon as I possibly can.**

**Protector of Canon2 – I never said that! My characters don't have the prestige. And besides, that would drive the Sue-O-Meter way too close for comfort.**

**Teh Captain – No, luv. Merry can't dream herself back to Middle-earth. If she could have, she would have tried long ago, methinks. As to the girl jeans, blame HazleSilver.**

**Ponysteph15 – Daydreams are always a fun thing to get lost in. Hope you enjoyed yours.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Sorry it seemed that way. To be frank, I myself was running out of ideas as to how they could get back. I'm glad you enjoyed the girl jeans. I had tons of fun writing it.**

**Time and Fate – Thank you.**

**Kay – Is it really that confusing? I didn't think so. Well, maybe this will clarify things for you.**

**Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me besides Merry, Jack, and the occasional OC and plot bunny. **

* * *

Merry opened her eyes and sighed. Clear blue sky met them, along with purple peaks crowned by glittering snowcaps. It was with great trepidation she sat up and got a better look at her surroundings.

"Dimrill Dale, Gelireth."

The girl cricked her neck trying to view the speaker. That voice, though, she would know anywhere.

"Legs," she said groggily. "Did…"

"Yes, Jack came," he replied before she could finish the question.

"Narf," Merry moaned and pushed herself to her feet.

Legolas was sitting on top of a nearby boulder, looking more alive than he'd been in ages. Jack lay spread-eagled on a patch of crushed grass close by. Glancing down at herself, Merry smiled to see her comfortable leggings, tunic, and undershirt. She became even happier upon spotting her sheathed sword and dagger, bow, quiver, and the flute Elrohir had made for her lying besides Legolas's tapping foot. With a sigh of relief, she buckled on her blades, slid the flute into the quiver, slung both over her back, and picked up her old bow.

A wave of nostalgia washed over Legolas as he watched Merry go over to Jack and start to shake him gently.

"Wassup?" the teenager murmured and then, "Where are we? What happened? And why do I feel like I just got run over by a freight train?"

"Welcome to Middle-earth," Legolas laughed softly. He had been wearing his old things before – to make convincing Jack easier – but he looked very smug and at ease – completely different from how he'd been in Merry's room. "Your little prayer-idea actually worked," he told the staring boy, still chuckling softly.

"And arriving in Middle-earth usually feels like that," Merry cut in. "You'll soon get used to it."

"I'm in Middle-earth?" Jack asked, open-mouthed with shock.

"That's what we said," Legolas answered, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"But…"

"No 'but's."

"I mean – "

"What if – "

"Hush."

"Why can't –"

"Nope."

"Are you – "

"Don't even go there."

Merry watched the interaction between her two friends with great interest. She wasn't quite sure why Legolas was being so exasperating, but the look of frustration on Jack's face was pure gold.

"Ye can't kill 'im, mate," she drawled as Jack began to make his way towards Legolas, arms outstretched as if to strangle the elf. "He's _way_ too much fun to lose by strangulation. And he'd hurt you," Merry added as an afterthought.

"No, I wouldn't," Legolas hurried to assure her, far too innocently to be believed.

"You'd do something terrible," Merry argued.

"Excuse me, but may I _please_ hurt him?" Jack begged, eyes glinting with ill will towards the smug elf.

"NO!" his friend yelled in annoyance. "There will be absolutely _no_ murder, assault, battery, or evil doing on this trip… well, none until we get wherever it is we're going… which is…?" She looked to Legolas.

"Eryn Lasgalen," he answered calmly.

"Okay, so we'll…"

"Be going through Lothlorien, across the Anduin, and along the eaves of the forest until we reach Celeborn's folk. Then a long trek to my father's hall where we shall rest up before journeying to my folk in Ithilien."

"So… about two weeks to the edge, half that till Celeborn, maybe three to the caves, rest for two, sail down Anduin… three weeks to a month…"

"Less," Legolas corrected her.

"Aye. Less… but after Anduin a week of walking – unless we manage to get horses. So about three months."

Jack looked dumbstruck.

"You overestimated, Merry. We will _not_ be spending two weeks with my father. I don't trust you in those caves."

The flautist considered this for a moment, staring pensively out at the cerulean horizon. "You are absolutely right," she conceded. "I'd end up pushing one of you into the river."

Legolas shivered dramatically. "I am keeping you under lock and key during the whole of our stay there, you terror."

"Yep, that's me," Merry remarked comfortably. "A terror. Glad you finally noticed."

Jack shut his mouth at last and glanced from his friend to the elf and back to Merry again. He frowned. Why were they acting so light-hearted about such a large journey? Why did Merry grin like an idiot every time she was around that inhuman…thing?

Jack had always fancied himself to be tougher and stronger than Merry, but the girl chatting away vivaciously to Legolas was not the fragile creature he'd led himself to believe her to be. It made him feel very incompetent and inferior. Come to think of it, so did Legolas. He was so perfect and confident, while Jack knew himself to be a bunch of tense nerves at the moment. To make matters worse, it was painfully obvious that Merry and Legolas would soon find him an inconvenience.

With a great inward sigh, he wondered aloud, "Er, I might be wrong, but shouldn't we be setting out?"

"We should," Legolas agreed, and he rose from his stony seat. "Lady Meredith?"

Merry put her hand down and answered his question. "I'll go as rear guard. You lead. Jack, in the middle. Just wondering, but do you have any food in that pouch?"

The elf checked it quickly. "Three days' worth of cram for _me._" He stressed the last word.

"So one for all of us," Merry surmised. "Can we fish?"

"It will take us precious time," he replied solemnly.

"Oh, well." The senior ground her teeth in frustration. "What else can we do?"

"Nothing," both males answered.

"Okay, then. If that's settled, I guess it's off to Lorien now."

Jack and Legolas nodded, and they were off.

* * *

"Where is he?" the man frowned, stroking his short beard ponderously.

"We think he's gone to another world," Elladan whispered into his ear.

Aragorn jumped visibly.

"_Her_?" he hissed to his foster brother.

"Possibly," Elrohir sighed. "He has been gone for a month now. I begin to wonder if…"

"If he doesn't wish to come back," Aragorn finished.

"That," Elrohir sighed deeply, "or if he can't."

"Don't worry, 'Rohir, Estel. If Legolas can come home, I'm sure he will. And if he can't, well, I'm sure he'll find a loophole and get back anyways," Elladan assured them quietly.

"We can only hope," Aragorn murmured, looking stricken.

* * *

They were being followed. Keen eyes watched each evening as the three companions halted, hunted or fished for their supper, cooked it, and bedded down for the night. The owner of the eyes tracked them in the daytime as well. It listened to their conversations and moved so carefully and cautiously that not even the wary elf noticed. It watched them all with a predator's intensity, but the one it focused on most of all filled it with hatred. The one with hair the color of a raven's wing and eyes a shade darker than amethysts. Unnatural creature. Foul creature. She deserved to die. And she would, long and slow and torturous. It would see to that.

Something was stalking the elf and teenagers, and that something did not wish them well, especially not the girl. It was only a matter of time before it struck.

* * *

**Author's Note: As always, reviews are appreciated, and flames will be used to roast marshmallows. Hope you enjoy the chapter! **

**AiH**


	6. Capture

**TheDreamChild – I already gave you your Candorien spoilers, remember? **

**So that bargain doth not hold in any court of semi-law under something.**

**Time and Fate – I knew it would be when I wrote it. – laugh – And, of course, that is in part why I wrote it. **

**Ogreatrandom – Well, if someone didn't form no-murder rules, I think half the little company would be dead in a few days. Or maybe by dinner.**

**Tathren Lalaith – No, Jack isn't too happy; the twins and Aragorn will make a debut, but I'm not saying when; you'll find out what's stalking them shortly; and I _am_ trying to update quickly. It just doesn't work out that way.**

**PippinBaggins – Intriguing? Really? I'm flattered.**

**Protector of Canon2 – You'll find out later. Have patience, young grasshopper.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – That made me laugh. Well, Merry has spoken the Word, and the Word may be spoken more often…. NARF!**

**Stargirl29 – Hope you did well on your exams. I'm jealous. I have to be at school at 7:30.**

**Alfalfa7 – It was a cliffy. It's not going to be nice. Your questions will all be answered in due course, never fear.**

**Disclaimer: I own Merry, Jack, and a few other random oddities. That's it.**

* * *

Trekking through Lorien became boring to Jack long before their first day was over. The others didn't seem to notice, however. Legolas, being an elf, was enjoying the journey. Merry, being Merry, managed to amuse herself as always by singing, skipping, joking, and being random.

When they at last stopped that first night, Jack was sent off to gather dead wood for a watch fire. Seething with suspicion, he wondered what Merry and Legolas were doing now that they were alone together. The teenager immediately crushed such thoughts, cursing himself for even considering such things of his best friend.

_Mind **out** of the gutter, Jack! Mind out of the gutter,_ he reminded himself. _Merry would never do anything like that…at least, I hope not._

* * *

Back at the campsite, Legolas and Merry were enjoying a moment of quiet conversation.

"Glad to be back?"

"Of course, Gelireth. Your friend – "

"I know, Thranduilion, I know. Forgive him. He is unused to Middle-earth."

Legolas shot Merry a strange look. Putting an arrow to his string, he stepped away into the forest.

With an annoyed sigh, Merry felt in her pouch for the small whetstone she had taken to keeping there. Running it along the blade of her dagger, the flautist sat and began to ruminate. Part of her was secretly glad that both Legolas and Jack were absent. She needed time to settle into her usual Middle-earth mindset.

Jack added a new spin on all the old philosophies, a new variable to the old equations, a new concern to all the old plans and worries. What was she going to do about him? There was so much Merry would have to alter. Her old behaviors could not remain the same. Allowances must be made for Jack. She couldn't have her silent discussions with Legolas anymore, even if Jack felt comfortable with the elf in lupine form. It was simply too impolite for them not to include him, and even if they could do so, it was unlikely that Jack would be able to relax enough for them continue as they had before.

Sliding her dagger into its sheath, Merry sighed again, this time more frustrated than annoyed. Carefully, she drew her sword and, laying it upon her knees, set to work on its edge.

_What's wrong, Merry? _asked a small, familiar voice.

_Legolas! _the girl cried silently, whirling to find the gray wolf regarding her with a slightly worried air.

_What's wrong? _he asked again, coming over to her and laying down on the ground beside her, looking up at her with mournful eyes.

Before she could answer, however, Jack came stumbling back into the clearing, arms full of wood. He sent the two of them one long angry glare and dumped the load of wood onto the ground.

"There's your firewood," he declared stiffly.

Merry sheathed her sword and stood, violet eyes somewhat sad. The wolf shifted forms, and Legolas bent to gather the scattered wood. After stacking it in a pile, he struck a spark with a stone and flint from his belt pouch and lit some kindling.

"Hungry?" the elf asked neutrally, moving over to the edge of the clearing and retrieving the bodies of three conies.

Jack glared at him and then muttered, "Maybe."

"Merry?"

"Just as long as I don't have to watch you two clean them."

Legolas laughed, and even Jack eventually joined in.

"Toss me your knife, Mer," the teenage boy directed. "That way I can help clean the rabbits. You'd better do something else."

Merry smiled, all sadness gone from her eyes now. She drew the dagger and threw it to the ground inches from Jack's feet.

"Whoah!" Jack jumped back three feet. Legolas, already skinning a rabbit (albeit on the other side of the boy so Merry couldn't see), chuckled softly.

"Sit," he ordered, gesturing to the ground beside him. "We must work quickly."

Jack did so, and soon boy and elf were swapping cooking tips and hunting stories. Merry listened to their conversation with a nostalgic smile. It reminded her of how she had once behaved around Legolas: uncertain, nervous, and a tad bit scared. She marveled now, looking back on their friendship. It had begun with gratitude and bashfulness, which soon gave way to laughter and comradery, often displaced by annoyance or frustration on either or both their parts.

Still thinking, Merry winced as a new subject was pushed to the forefront by the evil voice in her head.

_Do you still like Legolas?_ it asked, sounding as if it was grinning evilly while she writhed in mental agony.

_I don't know!_ Merry replied angrily. _Why do you ask?  
_

_Because, well, Jack thinks we do. I wanted to know if he was right, _it said, sounding reasonable for once.

_I don't know, okay?_

_Well, you should, and I wish you would._

_Let me figure it out on your own. When I know, I'll be sure to tell you. You okay with that?  
_

_Whatever. _It sighed deeply, sounding annoyed._ Just hurry._

Merry growled at it and sank into deep reflection. Did she like Legolas in that way? Or was her regard for him now that of a dear friend? The girl pictured the elf in her mind's eye and carefully explored her feelings for him.

_So?_ pestered the voice. _Well?_

_I don't like him that way, _Merry thought with great relief. _Legolas Thranduilion is merely one of my best friends. And what a best friend!_

"Merry. Hello. Earth to Merry!"

"Huh? Yeah?" Realizing she had fazed out, the girl shook her head vigorously and yawned.

"Dinner," Legolas announced, passing her a coney on a stick. "Not the finest culinary delicacy, but …"

"If Legolas is as good a cook as he says he is," Jack grinned, "there's a chance we'll survive the night."

"Hey!" the elf protested, feigning insult. "I am much better than Uruva over there."

Merry acted shocked, but she set to devouring the coney with obvious eagerness.

Each day after that fell into a predictable pattern. Merry, Jack, and Legolas rose early, walked all day with only a few short rests, and halted around dusk. Legolas would hunt for their supper, occasionally accompanied by one of his charges. Then, the male members of the party would cook the meat, and after dinner, they all lay down by themselves and slept – except for the person on watch.

On their last day in Lorien, Merry was lagging behind even more than usual. Jack and Legolas were immersed in conversation a hundred yards off, paying not attention to her. That was fine with the girl. She was reciting Spanish words under her breath, then saying the English and Sindarin translations, if she knew them. It was not always a mind-consuming activity, but it kept Merry from becoming bored.

"Caballo, horse, roch. Mi amiga, my friend, mellon nin. Plato, silver, celeb. Oh, this isn't working!"

With a sigh, she plopped down in the grass, plucked a sprig of elanor, and tucked it behind one ear. Songs ran through her mind, each reaching out to her for a moment before another took its place. Merry began to hum quietly to herself. Prevalent among the tunes emanating from her larynx was the theme to _Phantom of the Opera._

After a while, Merry looked up, and finding herself alone and out of earshot of her friends, catapulted to her feet. The girl began a mad dash along their trail, calling out Jack and Legolas's names at short intervals. No one replied. Before Merry had been a quarter of an hour on the chase, she heard a light thud from behind her. Heart in her throat, she whirled to see an elf. His eyes were dark, cold, and cruel.

The girl backed away from the strange ellon, but before she had gone two steps, she heard another thud coming from behind her once more. Four more thuds followed the second, these all around.

With a sinking heart, Merry turned. She was surrounded by six elves, all male and malicious. Their hands lingered threateningly upon the hilts of swords or curved ends of bows.

"Mae govannen," Merry began hesitantly. Perhaps it wasn't wise to talk to these creatures, but seeing as how she was encircled, it seemed the only option at the moment.

The first elf to have appeared laughed. Chills ran up and down the flautist's spine.

_Go!_ urged the voice in the back of her head. _Go now! Save us! Find Legolas!_

But Merry found herself rooted to the ground in terror; she could not lift a finger, let alone run for her life.

The six elves tightened their circle around her, coming closer, closer, closer. At last Merry found the strength and will to draw her sword. The elves obviously did not care, for they laughed at the sight of her blade gleaming in the sun.

"Surrender, girl," hissed the first elf, apparently the leader of the group. "Surrender, and we shall not hurt you overmuch."

This did little to soothe Merry, and she merely tightened her grip on the sword's pommel.

"Now!" cried the elf, and the circle closed in. Two elves grabbed her arms, and two more held her legs. Her blade fell to the forest floor, knocked aside by a fifth elf, who then pulled her head back by the hair. Their leader whipped a flask out from his belt and carefully uncorked it. Merry, sensing what was coming, clamped her lips together. This tactic did not work, however. The ellon yanking on her ponytail reached out a hand and pinched her nose shut.

The teenager held on for as long as she could, but at last she had to gulp down some air. In the few seconds in which her mouth was open, the elves' leader wedged the flask and poured its contents down her throat. As soon as the liquid was in her mouth, he began to massage her throat, forcing her to swallow.

Anger and hatred boiling up inside her, Merry cursed her body for obeying the elf instead of her. Almost immediately, the drink began to take effect. She felt light-headed and weak. The girl swooned, collapsing against her captors.

Smiling grimly, they gently lowered her to the ground. Their leader examined Merry carefully before picking up the unconscious teenager in his arms. Her head lolled limply against his chest, causing the ellon to look disgusted.

"Filth," he muttered quietly. "Filth."

"You know what hir nin said," one of the others interjected. "She is to be unharmed until we reach him."

"I know, I know," the leader of the small company spat. "It is simply that I would much rather I didn't have to hold her. But we can't risk her crying out or trying to escape, so drugged she must be."

He repositioned his burden, quite glad of her light weight. It would have been a problem indeed to have to carry a heavy girl all the way to his master. The ellon gave a silent hand signal, and they were off, running quickly. One went behind to hide their tracks so no one, not even a Ranger, could ascertain what had taken place.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update. My life has been full of band, homework, finals, etc. But I shall try not to leave you hanging for so long again. As always, reviews are appreciated, and flames will be used as ammo for my flame thrower and to destroy the oncoming concourses of Sues. **

**Until Next Time,**

** Your Friendly Neighborhood AiH**


	7. The Elf Lord

**Childofthekng – I agree with you completely. Not a good combination in the least.**

**Livdee – Maybe a subconscious Numb3rs reference, methinks. Hope the update was everything you wanted.**

**Teh Captain – Coney, dear, is another word for rabbit. **

**TheDreamChild – Did I really? Yes, there is evil nearby, but whether that's just the evil of Erik seeping through even my nicest, kindest –snigger– writings or whether you're getting better at sensing evil than I thought… Well, that's all up in the air, mate.**

**Not Magical Me – I have been considering bringing Merry and Candorien together, but whether I will or not remains up in the air.**

**Tathren Lalaith – Well, you're just going to have to wait and see, then, aren't you?**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Just because Merry believes she only thinks about Legolas as a friend doesn't mean she's really over him. I hope that makes more sense to you than it does to me. It made sense in my head, but now that I've written it out, it doesn't make as much sense. – pout – Why is it that everything always works out that way?**

**Ogreatrandom – Yes, a cliffhanger to make all you fans and readers die of curiosity. To pay for all the times you've done the same thing to me.**

**Alfalfa7 – It may not make much sense now, but it hopefully will later.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, and someone else owns everything, as per usual.**

**Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me so long to update. My life has become extremely hectic of late, but I shall try (and really try this time) to update more quickly for my beloved readers. Though maybe I'd write a bit more and faster if I got a bit more reviewer feedback. But ignore me. I'll update when I can. Anyways... enough of my talking and on to the chapter!**

* * *

The next few days were extremely hazy, and all Merry could recall from them after was the faint memory of an ellon pouring a drink down her throat. In that drugged condition, she was too weak to even consider resisting the strong elves.

Unbeknownst to the girl, she mumbled in her drugged sleep. The elf carrying her listened carefully to all she said, thinking it might be of use later.

"Stop fighting, gentlemen. I mean it! Don't make me angry, or I'll be doing the pokey dance on your sun-bleached skulls," she muttered at one point.

The other ellyn shot her nervous glances and began to murmur amongst themselves when she said that, but their leader quieted them with a glare. He preferred to administer as little of the sleeping drug as possible, and the girl would wake sooner if his people were even the slightest bit noisy.

At last – in the elves' minds – they came to their lord's dwelling. He was waiting for them outside when they carried her to him and gently placed her at his feet.

"The girl, my lord," the captain told him with a bow.

His lord, a tall, muscular elf with pure hatred in his black eyes, nodded silently and bent down to touch the limp teenager. Without waking from her sleep, she trembled as his cold hands turned her over for inspection.

"Ahh," he hissed, lifting one of her eyelids to glance at the violet eye beneath. "You have done well, my captain."

The addressed elf nodded. "Sir, if I may …"

"Speak to me inside? Of course."

The tall elf straightened with catlike grace. "You five, tie her to that tree," he indicated a giant mallorn twenty paces off, "and then you may return to the barracks. Well done, all of you." Turning to his captain, he continued, "Come, mellon nin. We must speak."

He led the other elf into a large shack in the middle of the clearing. It was but camouflage, for inside it held the beginning of a stair stretching far below in the earth. Down the stair they went, ducking off into a doorway close at hand; it led to the lord's office. Down below farther still were the stables and barracks, kitchens and dungeons. The stronghold had been designed and built by enslaved dwarves and men who had all been put to death after. The elves' lord could be exceedingly cruel sometimes.

"Tell me all you know of her," he directed his captain, and the other elf proceeded to do so.

* * *

Back up in the clearing, Merry was finally coming to. Finding herself bound and gagged, she did what all her favorite crime novels advised: tried to escape. It was hard, however, as the drug had not quite worn off yet, and her bonds were very tight. The gag wasn't really a problem, though. Merry merely chewed her way through inches of material and prayed to the Valar she would never have to do so again. Mouth finally freed, she next set to work on clawing and biting the rope binding her torso to the trunk. Just then, however, one of the elf lord's Men emerged from the shack, looking quite drunk. The flautist mentally cursed her body once more – this time for not being more homely.

Spotting the bound girl, the Man's face broke into a lewd leer, and he quickly approached her.

"You ain't too bad lookin'," he breathed, touching her cheek. His breath was foul and stank of putrid meat and rancid beer.

Eyes blazing, Merry jerked her head around and bit down on his fingers as hard as she could. When she finally let go, the senior threw back her proud head and let loose such a cry as had never been heard in Lorien before. Part wolf's howl, part lion's roar, and part the scream of a peregrine falcon, it sent the man staggering backwards. With a strength she had not known she possessed, the flautist broke through the last strands about her torso and cut the ones around her legs with the knife in her boot her captors seemed to have missed when they confiscated her weapons, for her other sheaths were empty, and her bow, flute, and quiver were missing all together.

As the man came back towards her, Merry brandished the knife threateningly.

"Do not make me kill you," she hissed calmly yet venomously, thought her insides were trembling.

The man quickly backed away.

Before she could make good her escape, however, the elf captain and his lord came dashing up the steps and out of the shack. Gesturing to his servant to distract her, the latter slipped around behind the girl. Soft and quick as a shadow, he grabbed her, throwing one arm across her neck, and squeezed, hard.

Merry struggled against him for a moment and then went limp. Instantly, he moved his arm and picked her up gently, cradling her in his arms like a sleeping child. The man and elf watched in slight awe. There was a very fine line between knocking someone out and strangling them, and their lord had let go of the girl's throat only just in time.

"Lord," the Man began quickly, "I didn't let her out. I didn't do anything to her."

"Whatever the case may be," the elf said coldly, looking from the girl in his arms to the Man, "it will be discussed down in the small torture chamber. No objections," he ordered as the man began to protest. His face had gone white at the words 'torture chamber'. "If you resist, my friend will have to force you."

The other elf nodded with a grim smile. Several things about the situation the two ellyn had stumbled upon required further explanation.

"I'll come, of course, my lord," the Man said hastily.

"Good. Let us go now."

The small group speedily made its way down to the very depths of the underground stronghold. The lord, carrying Merry, led the way with the nervous man straggling after. All thoughts he might have had of escape were killed by the calm captain striding immediately behind him. Elves and Men peered out from doors on the stairs, watching the little procession with unmasked curiosity.

It was a long walk to the torture chamber, and the lord used every moment of it to his advantage, studying the girl in his arms. Her face, he noted, was prematurely etched with laugh and worry lines. She was slim, but he knew from the clearing that she was by no means helpless.

She presented a conundrum to the elf, or might have, had he not known as much about her as he did. Oh, yes. He had been noting her actions since the infamous Umarthion incident. She was, in his mind, an abomination, and she deserved death.

The small torture chamber wasn't exactly small, and the Man gulped nervously upon seeing it. A rack, an iron maiden, and several dozen whips littered the room. Chains hung from the ceiling and were attached to the walls.

"Maybe her cell might be more, ah, appropriate, my lord," suggested the elf captain.

"Perhaps," his lord agreed. All he wanted to do was interrogate her at the moment. Later, after he had planned the best way to go about it, the torturer would come. At the moment, however, the need to get the girl secured and imprisoned was much more pressing.

"Very well," he hissed softly, gazing down at his unconscious burden. "Come along."

They had come now to the very depths of the stronghold, and the small group wandered down a dimly lit passageway. Torches blazed in scattered sconces, and water dripped from the walls and ceiling. At last the elf lord halted outside a small cell.

"We are here," he announced unnecessarily and without further ado pushed open the door. Briskly, he laid Merry down on the cell's straw-filled pallet and locked her wrists and ankles into their respective cuffs and shackles. Then, with a surprising gentleness, he slapped her cheeks lightly until she finally came back to consciousness.

Merry stared up into the face of the elf bending over her, wondering why his eyes were so terribly cold and his face so hard and unforgiving.

"Mae govannen," she began tentatively, still rather drowsy.

"Tell me, girl," he cut in succinctly, stepping away from her. "What has happened to you?"

The seventeen-year-old closed her eyes to consider the meaning of the statement. After a while, she ventured, "Kidnapped. Drink. Ropes. Chewed gag."

"Is that so?" the elf lord asked, leaving the cell and locking its door behind him.

Not noticing, Merry shivered. "Tasted disgusting. Chewed rope. Drunk guy came over." Her eyes took on a glazed look, and she trembled noticeably, tossing and turning on the cot, unaware of her chains. "Bit the bugger. Cried out. Burst and cut meself loose. Choking, then blackness." The girl looked very ill and feverish by the time she finished. Finally seeing the Man, the senior started to shake again before passing out.

The elf lord shot the Man a disgusted look and cursed loudly. "I was going to interrogate her more fully, fool, but now I do not seem to have that option. Captain, post a guard or two of your best scouts outside her cell and lock _him_ up. I want no other in my command attempting to debase themselves with _Her._"


	8. Potty Emergency & Reactions

**PippinBaggins – Aye. Do try to keep the story lines from getting all tangled and confused, mate.**

**Childofthekng – Sad, isn't it? But maybe if she were a dwarf she could. You never know how strong dwarven teeth are. Well, dwarfs probably do. I don't.**

**TheDreamChild – Just stick with the katana. Don't go off with all the other odd weapons I don't know the histories of.**

**Time and Fate – Go look at the second one. He's the evil bad guy thing.**

**Ogreatrandom – And you are a great reviewer, as always. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Princess Abbie of Stars – Me? Reveal what's going on? – falls over laughing – Honestly, mate, I would have thought you'd have wised up by now. I never reveal what's going on. You have to pay strict attention and do some guesswork. **

**Tathren Lalaith – Not all elves are evil; just some. I'm not even going to mention Chapter 14 of True Tale and repeats. You do realize that just because a reviewer makes a comment or plea does not necessarily mean I will listen to them, right? **

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Really, mate, that isn't fair. There is to be a reaction scene, it just came later than you expected. I shan't say more. Just read.**

**Kay – You're just now confused? I must really be slipping.**

**Alfalfa7 – Glad you enjoyed the chapter. I am updating rather quickly this time, due to reviews and suchlike.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Merry, Jack, and the occasionally nonexistent plot. **

* * *

Merry woke sometime in the night, shivering with cold. At last the drug had worn off, and she could think clearly.

_Why did we lag behind? _she asked herself morosely. _Why?_ The seventeen-year-old sighed. _Well, we've now been abducted, bound, choked, drugged, erm … touched, and imprisoned! Not to mention interrogated. But why? Why did those ruddy elves kidnap _me_? Oh, great. _Merry realized something. _ I've got to pee._

"Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now, gotta go, gotta go, gotta gooooooooooooooooooooo," she murmured to herself and then, "POTTY EMERGENCY!" the girl shrieked with all her might.

The words spread bout outwards and upwards, waking all the lord's folk and beasts. In the highest level of the stronghold, the elf lord sat up with a pounding migraine. They had all underestimated how loud a teenager in need of a toilet could be. And now, one of the loudest was twitching far below them, attempting to do the potty dance and hoping someone would come unchain her and escort her to the restroom _soon_ as loudly as she possibly could.

Just then, one of her irritated guards banged on the cell door. "Shut up there, will you?"

"Avo bedo!" yelled another.

The flautist's eyes were bulging out of her sockets at this moment, so she paid little attention to him.

"Potty. Now," she croaked.

"We really don't care if you mess in your clothes," one of the guards informed her, "just as long as you're quiet, tithen deloswen."

That was it. Merry had taken all she was willing to take. The young woman exploded, "This is the outside of enough! I am going to yell until you take me to a bathroom, toilet, commode, outhouse, chamber pot, potty, or head. I'm really not that picky. Even a cesspit would be bearable at this point. Just get me a bloody bathroom!"

Hearing the grumbles of the barracks above them, the guards quickly made up their minds. Two unlocked the cell door, went in, and unchained Merry. Prodding her in the back with their long daggers, the group of guards formed a circle around her. The teenager ignoring them, far too much occupied making sure she didn't wet her pants by doing the potty dance (merely a kind of waddling two-step with one's legs crossed). Fortunately for her, the toilet wasn't too far off. Merry's heart nearly burst with joy as she laid eyes upon it. Admittedly, it was only a box-like thing in a dark room with a hole on top, but it was a potty.

The guards turned their back while Merry relieved herself. When she had finished, they escorted her back to her cell and chained her again. The girl didn't really mind this time. Staring up at the ceiling, Merry began to plot. After all it was about time she broke loose and caught up with her friends.

* * *

It was only when Jack and Legolas stopped to camp for the night that they noticed Merry's absence.

"Merry!" Jack called as the elf bent over to start their cook fire. "Merry! Hurry up and catch up! Dang it! Legolas, when did you last see Merry?"

"Near two hours ago," his friend replied worriedly, straightening and brushing his golden hair back from his eyes. "I thought she was just lagging behind – maybe a hundred yards off. She _has_ gotten better at moving quietly." Legolas sighed. Admitting he had made a mistake was extremely hard on the elf's psyche.

"So she should be here by now," Jack mused, the telltale signs of panic beginning to show on his face. "Where is she?"

"I'll go back and find her," Legolas decided, sending Jack a firm look as the teenage boy began to protest. "You stay here."

The seventeen-year-old glared at the elf as he disappeared into the forest.

Legolas ran as swiftly as he ever had, sweeping their path with his keen eyes for any sign of his teenage friend.

_Curses, Merry, where in all of Arda have you gotten to this time? _he thought miserably to himself.

At his fast speed, it did not take the elf more than an hour to reach the clearing where Merry had been abducted. Legolas looked around wildly, breathing in huge gasps. At once, his gaze locked on a piece of parchment pinned to the trunk of a mallorn with an arrowhead. Dread welling up in the pit of his stomach, the wood elf hurried over to it. With one quick, fluid movement, he ripped it off and held it up to the light to read. A gasp escaped the elf's lips as Legolas realized it was addressed to him.

– _To the esteemed Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, current ruler of elves in Southern Ithilien –_

_Do not look for your little friend. By the time you receive this, she will be far away. It would be a waste of effort to attempt to rescue her. Meredith Lee Wood is lost to you forever, ernil. She will die slowly through excruciating torture. Hurry to your homeland, Legolas – else you and your other little friend may die as well._

The elf dropped the letter and collapsed against the mallorn, tears leaking out of his closed eyes and gliding slowly down his cheeks. Legolas drew his knees up to his chin and began to sob quietly. How could he have been so careless? Why hadn't he told the two teenagers to stay together? Why had he allowed Merry to lag so far behind?

Guilt overwhelmed Legolas as he sat there. It was _his_ fault they had kidnapped Merry. She had been in his care, he her guardian. And now she would die because of his error. Unable to keep the pearly tears from falling, Legolas buried his face in his knees and cried.

* * *

Three long hours later, Legolas at last straggled back into the clearing where he had left Jack. Hearing the elf's footsteps, he looked up from his place beside the fire and inhaled sharply.

Legolas's face was streaked with dirt, and his normally perfect hair was clumped and matted. Blood blossomed along his forearms and cheeks, and the wood elf looked so weary Jack became instantly alarmed.

"What happened?" he asked, leaping to his feet and rushing over to steady the elf, who was weaving on his feet.

Wordlessly, Legolas pushed him a way and slid the piece of parchment into the boy's hand. Jack glanced at him curiously and noticed little paths winding their way through the dirt and dried blood on his cheeks. He guessed they had been caused by tears and lowered his gaze to the note. Legolas sat down and waited for the boy to finish, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"This cannot be!" Jack exclaimed, enraged, once he had finished reading.

"I'm afraid it is," Legolas replied bitingly. He had been hoping for a bit more than that. A brilliant plan to rescue Merry, perhaps, or a question that would stimulate Legolas's brain into coming up with one. Not a statement of outrage that was absolutely unnecessary.

"What are we going to do?"

Legolas restrained the urge to sigh and beat his forehead with his palms. "I have no idea," he admitted slowly.

"You have no idea?" Jack was annoyed. "You're an elf! You're supposed to know everything!" He didn't say it, but the words, "What's wrong with you?" hung silently in the air.

Legolas was getting angry now. "You have no idea of how much I've done," he spat. "I spent two hours searching for tracks and found none. They were too careful for that. And, unless you can think of any way to get Merry back, do _not _question or criticize me." He was sick of having to call the shots already, and it had not yet been fifteen minutes. With a surge of pain, Legolas began to realize just how much he had depended on Merry and her quick thinking in a crisis. He felt her loss keenly.

_If she was here, _the elf thought morosely, _I'm sure she would be able to think of something. But here I am stuck at the edge of Lorien without her, and I can think of naught. The closest kingdoms are Mirkwood and Rohan, and – that's it! Rohan! Èomer may not be Merry's greatest admirer, but he will help – I am sure of it!_

"Pull yourself together, boy," he said coldly. "Gather your things. Pack up."

"We're leaving Merry?" Jack asked, glaring at Legolas suspiciously.

"We're going for help," the ellon corrected, slinging his pack over a shoulder.

"But what about Merry?" the teenager pressed anxiously, his face and posture set in an attitude of complete stubbornness.

"She can take care of herself," Legolas replied, though he wasn't entirely sure she could under the circumstances. "Come now. We must be swift as eagles for a while."

With that, the boy and elf set off, running as quickly as the slower human could manage. Rohan was a long way off, and the sooner they reached its fields, the better for Merry.

As he ran, Legolas thought desperately, _Take care of yourself, Gelireth. Don't die while I'm gone. Hold on. Help is coming._


	9. The Torture Begins

**PippinBaggins – Well, if they didn't go to the bathroom… that would make things rather uncomfortable, wouldn't it?**

**Time and Fate – Oh, trust me. The darkness hasn't even really started yet.**

**Kay – And how am I slipping again?**

**Ogreatrandom – I think this one was actually my favorite to write. I've been working on this one (in my notebook) for over a year now. I should probably get it all finished and posted.**

**Tathren Lalaith – Yes, I suppose you are allowed to hope, but please do so quietly. It disturbs my muse. **

**TheDreamChild – I actually do know what a Keyblade is now. You should be very proud of me.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Wakko was my favorite character. I loved his bag o' tricks. Want one myself. All right, I concede. It did take Legolas and Jack an inordinate amount of time to realize their friend was missing.**

**Protector of Canon2 – If I answered all your questions, then there would be no point to the story. I fear you shall have to wait.**

**Ames – Aye, 'tis. And I would do so, only I wrote this particular chapters so many moons ago that he is already comforted. Oh, well – goes off and huggles the elf anyway – There, happy?**

**Childofthekng – You are a master at the art of understatement.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. But I am humming "Little Shop of Horrors" under my breath, if you must know.**

* * *

Once again, the imprisoned girl was woken by the elf lord. This time, however, he merely shouted at her from outside her cell.

"Tithen orch, wake up!" His voice echoed through her pounding head. A night of sleeping, chained, no less, on her back and no done wonders for the teenager's mental condition.

"Blast! I'm already awake!" she yelled back in annoyance. "What is it you want, you overgrown pimply piece of frogspawn?" she asked, a bit quieter this time.

He fumed, and several new torture plans formed in his head. Exerting more self-control than he wanted, the cruel elf responded, "I have a few questions for you."

"What are they, tithen orch?"

Now she was spitting his insults back at him. This was insufferable, yet he knew he would have to bear through it in order to properly plan the torture.

"Name?"

"Meredith Lee Wood." There was no use in lying about what she was sure he already knew. At any rate she felt much too tired to make the effort.

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Race?"

"Human. Duh."

"Purpose in Middle-earth?"

"What are you, the inter-realm immigration police?" The senior paused for a moment to think of an innocent enough answer that wouldn't give away Legolas's secret. "Just a small errand," she replied at length.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"That is all."

"Are you sure of this, my lord?" the captain asked nervously, glancing at the girl. "Do you not have more questions?"

His lord laughed mercilessly as he leaned against the disgustingly slimy passage wall and scribbled ideas onto a piece of crumpled parchment in his hand.

"Bring her to me in two hours," he directed at length. "I will be in the large torture chamber. You will also need the special guard."

The captain nodded swiftly and went at once to do his master's bidding. The special guard consisted of a group of six select elves who were extremely skilled in the arts of causing pain and keeping victims alive even after excruciating torture. Such skills made them invaluable to the elf lord.

Surprisingly, the captain felt the merest ember of pity for the girl in his heart. He had thought such emotions were far behind in his past. Maybe it was the notoriety of this girl that caused the unwanted emotion. Most had heard of the mysterious human that was wont at times to accompany the sons of Elrond or one of the princes of Mirkwood on their long journeys. It was easy to hear tales of her oddity and bravery – if one knew who to ask.

_It was this one's infamy that brought her to milord's notice,_ the captain thought. _'Tis her own fault she's in this predicament, _he told himself, vaulting up the stairs two by two. _She is to blame, and her death, while tragic, will be well deserved. She ought not to have meddled in things that ought not to be meddled in. _With that, the ellon tried valiantly to banish all thoughts of pity from his mind and heart. It would not do to be feeling such things during her torture – especially the first session, as it was always the hardest to watch.

* * *

She would not admit she was terrified. That was not her style. Instead, the girl laughed, joked, and bluffed her way through the journey to the torture room. Inside, however, Merry was quaking and close to tears.

_I'm not strong,_ she thought hurriedly as the guards prodded her in the back with their spears. _I'm only seventeen. Sure, I was brave four years ago. But it's been so long since I actually hung out with Legolas and the twins like we used to. I haven't used my weapons, I'm not used to elven stoicism, I'm not strong or brave! All I have is will and wit, and I doubt those will last long._

The girl managed to keep up her brave pretense all the way to the rack. She stood, head held high, a smile on her face, even as they strapped her wrists and ankles in and rotated the cruel machine. Still, the teenager quieted her tremors and silenced her inner screams.

_This isn't right! _a voice inside her cried loudly. _You're only a child! What have you done to them? Why do they try to kill us, precious?  
_

_I don't know, _Merry replied shakily as the elf lord entered the torture room and came over to her. _I don't know, and I'm really scared._

_Be strong, Gelireth. Be strong._

The seventeen-year-old twitched, startled. Had she just heard Legolas's voice? But that was impossible. He was probably too far away by no – or dead, but she didn't want to think of that – to hear her or speak to her. It had been so like his voice in wolf shape, though.

_Legolas!_ Merry thought wildly. _Legolas, where are you? Come help me. Legolas!_

But there was no reply.

Tears pooled in Merry's violet eyes. She blinked them back forcefully. Before she could call to her friend again, however, the elf lord was bending over her.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked softly as he tightened the leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles.

"Someone has to rid the world of filth like you," he replied coldly, glaring down at her with hate-filled eyes, "and I am the one doing the happy chore. You ought to thank me, tithen deloswen."

Merry knew that one. She had annoyed the sons of Elrond too much in the past not to have been called a 'little abomination'.

"But why me?" she pressed.

"You behave as no human girl ought. You wear trousers and associate with elves. You involve yourself in matters too high for you."

"Such as?"

"The War of the Ring, trying to rescue the sons of Elrond and Prince Legolas," he snapped at her, stepping away. The special guard came forward.

"They weren't too high for me," Merry retorted, unable to stop herself. "They were just high enough, and, if you'll look back on things, we did win the War of the Ring, and I _did_ rescue the twins and Legs. Not to mention Glorfindel and Erestor." She smirked smugly. All this did was infuriate the cold elf.

"You have no shame," he spat at her. "You ride a horse, wield weapons, and act like a man!"

"And your point is?" Merry asked lazily. "Hey, kid, got any cheese? And I want my flute back. It was made special for me by a friend. It means a lot to me."

"No, you stupid girl! I am sick of your idiotic questions. Guard, begin the torture."

One of the six elves stepped over to the handle of the rack and gave it one quick turn. Merry's insides churned, and her bones threatened to snap as her body was forcibly lengthened. The ellon turned the handle again.

She had promised herself she would not cry out. She had ordered herself to remain quiet. These promises and commands were quickly broken, however. Before she could realize it or attempt to control the instinct, Merry was screaming in agony.

Half an hour later, the elf lord signaled wit ha finger for the special guard to let her free. They rotated the rack till she was in an upright position and unstrapped her.

Merry collapsed to the ground, forming a whimpering, quivering ball. Her will and wit had both been broken, and only a shell of the once-proud flautist remained. She had never experienced such pain, such torture, such terror, and it surprised her to be still alive.

"Not so high are we now, eh?" the elf commented, looking down at the heap at his feet with disdain. "Not so confident or cocky, are you?"

The bundled mass did not reply, just shook more.

"A new name I give you, tithen deloswen. From now on you shall be called 'Naeriel'. 'Great sadness', if you care to know. Triwath," he called loudly.

The captain came over from his place by the wall.

"Yes, my lord Pilimór?"

"Take her to the stables."

"The stables, sir?" Triwath found this order rather stranger than usual.

"Yes, captain, the stables. I have analyzed this girl today, and, believe you me, she would rather die now than be forced to work for her enemy and endure further torture and humiliation. Lock her in the oldest foaling stall. Tomorrow she will begin her duties."

"Duties, sir?"

"Yes, duties. After all, we are in need of a new groom, are we not?"

"Yes, sir."

Pilimór, the elf lord, bent over the trembling girl and stroked her face gently.

"You will endure torments far worse than this, tithen Naeriel," he whispered before standing erect once more. "Take her," he ordered the captain, who bowed and gathered the shaking girl into his arms before leaving the torture chamber.

* * *

**Author's Note: I beg your forgiveness for my horrible tardiness in updating. I can only say that I have been grounded from the computer, preoccupied by a band trip to Chicago, and distracted by the face of a pretty boy. And that is all. As always, reviews are appreciated, and flames will be used to make pannini sandwiches. Yum!**

**'Til Next Time,**

**Authoressinhiding**


	10. First Escape Attempt

**Ames – Oki, so the pizza was delicious, and the Hard Rock Café was the coolest thing ever, but I really do not desire to spend another 84 hours or more with my fellow band students on a Greyhound bus for at least another two years. And whatever boy has been distracting me, I shalt keep it to meself… at least for now. Savvy?**

**PippinBaggins – Ah, yes, Princess Bride. One of the greatest movies ever made.**

**LE Evarlier – Um, yes, my friend, school is an excuse. To be exact, it is _my_**** excuse. And I will probably use it a lot more. But I shall try not to leave you hanging for so long.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Ah, Monty Python. Having never seen an episode, I cannot comment on it, though I should like to be able to.**

**Stargirl29 – You know, this really is not fair. My reviewers are not supposed to be getting their permits before I get my own.**

**Alfalfa7 – It is a very good thing you have learned never to expect me to give the answers. I shall try to update more often and supply them for you that way, however.**

**Protector of Canon2 – As always, it grieves me to inform you that I cannot answer your questions, and you must simply wait for the answers to be revealed through the story. Savvy?**

**Salsagirl626 – I leave everyone hanging, mate. But I shall try not to leave you hanging for so long that your arms lose all feeling and you fall many thousands of feet to your death.**

**Time and Fate – Though I wouldst not have including the cussing, I do believe you have hit the proverbial nail on the head.**

**TheDreamChild – If you and Cap'n were there… Valar… it's probably just as well you aren't there. Will always distracts me, mate. This was another pretty boy. **

**Tathren Lalaith – Yes, yes, poor Merry. **

**Childofthekng – Well, erm, the pretty boy and the band trip intersect… and the grounded and the boy kind of intersect… but the grounding has nothing whatsoever to do with the band trip. And yes, elves can be quite cruel. Especially Legolas when he teases me about my fan-girly ways.**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing but Merry. I am going to own Will's heart, though, yes, precious, gollum, gollum.**

* * *

Merry woke extremely sore and at once wished he hadn't. Every inch of her body, from her hair follicles to her toenails ached abominably, and there was a nasty taste in her mouth. Gingerly, she pushed herself into a sitting position and took stock of the situation. 

_Okay, Mer, you're alive, _she told her jittery self. _That's got to count for something. And I know what we went through yesterday nearly killed us, but we can rebound…I think._

_So say you, _the little voice in her head replied tartly. _And, really, I don't see why we're so afraid of these … pieces of elvish vermin. We annoyed Sauron to distraction and rendered nearly a full company of Haradrim incapable of doing anything but moaning. We can defeat these lily-footed elves._

_But … but …_

_Meredith Lee Wood, wake up! Be yourself, be _us_ as we were of old!_

_But … but …_

_But what?_

_But we're not thirteen and impossible anymore! We're not who we were then. We're less … less us._

_Just because we may not be the same girl as we used to be doesn't mean we have to stay that way. Come on, try to annoy me._

_I've been tortured. I'm cold, hungry, and imprisoned. I've lost my friends. I can't annoy anyone!_

_Oh, yes, we can!_

And before Merry knew what she was doing, she was on her feet and to the door of the stall. As she'd suspected, it was locked. Oh, well. The stall's walls were only six feet high with plenty of rotting boards that made good finger- and toeholds. It was but the work of a moment for the girl to clamber up to the top and jump down. Wiping her hands on her trousers, the seventeen-year-old took a look around, grinning broadly.

_The old girl's still got it, _she laughed softly, noting the many stalls, fine elvish mounts, and elaborate tack. _Oooh, they must have plenty of gold._

No one was in the stables, oddly enough, so Merry felt safe enough to explore. The first thing she set out to do was find a suitable weapon. Luckily, the idiots had left hoof picks, files, a hammer, nails, and clippers in the tack area. Breaking leather thongs off the saddles and bridles, the flautist bound these implements together and formed several odd-looking weapons. The hammer went into her belt. Hoof picks with nails tied to their ends formed mini-hatchets, which followed the hammer into the belt. The files she strapped to her legs, and the clippers she carried in her right hand. Wishing for her flute, Merry picked out an amiable gelding that looked fast and slid a bridle on him. Hopping up, she exchanged the clippers for the hammer and anchored herself on with her knees. Yeah, Merry'd had a bit of practice at escape attempts.

"On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen. On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen," she yelled. Perhaps it was unwise, but that the moment she didn't care. The gelding reared, and, guided by the insane senior, he charged out the door and galloped up the stairway (he had done this many times before) on his way out.

Of course, a teenager – no matter how brave or intelligent – cannot expect to escape from an underground fortress manned with cruel elves and humans and all other kinds of nasty enemies without being seen. Merry didn't. She knew the risks she was taking. She just hoped the horse would be fast enough to get her out into the woods before they raised a hue and cry. There, at least, she might have a decent chance of getting away.

Indeed, the flautist and her stolen mount made it all the way out. Once in the forest, Merry reined the horse away from the setting sun. Rohan, she knew, was to the southeast.

"Norolim," Merry urged the horse, hearing shout behind her. They had realized she was gone. A bit slowly, too, she thought. And now they were after her.

The elves and men, realizing they couldn't catch up with her on foot, turned to another alternative. One of their best archers set arrow to bowstring, and moments later the girl tumbled from her horse, shot through the shoulder. Blood blossomed from the wound, soaking her tunic and spilling onto the ground. Clenching her teeth together, Merry sat up and tried to pull the arrow out. Pain exploded in her head, and she sank back down to the ground, panting heavily. As boots came slowly into view, the girl gave into the pain. By the time the ellon actually reached her, she was unconscious.

* * *

"So, you thought you could escape, did you?" 

Dread welling up in the pit of her stomach, Merry slowly opened her eyes and looked up into Pilimór's furious face. Turning her head, the seventeen-year-old saw that she was chained to the wall of the torture chamber.

_Oh no, _she thought despairingly. _Please, Illùvatar, no._

To make things even worse, as she woke more and her mind cleared, Merry realized her back was facing out and the members of the special guard stood behind her, each holding a 'cat' with loving care.

"You were not supposed to escape," said Pilimòr, stroking her cheek gently. "And now, Naeriel, I fear you must be punished.

_Annoy! _cried the voice in the back of her mind. _Protect yourself! BE who you used to be! You fought off Sauron; don't let these cruel creatures hurt you! Be strong, Merry! Be us! Be … oh, phooey. I'm taking over._

Merry found herself laughing unexpectedly, and she had no idea where this fountain of pure amusement was coming from.

"What is wrong with you, girl? Why do you not tremble in fear before me? Why are you not afraid?"

"Because," the girl spat, completely immune to all threats and fear, "I am _not_ in your power. You do _not_ scare me, for I," she caught her breath, "for I am Princess Angelina Contessa Luisa Francesca Banana-Fanna Bobesca … the Third!"

As she said this, Merry seemed to grow in stature until she overshadowed all in the room. Then she laughed, and it was a terrible thing to hear, for in that moment, she forgot all restraint, and what she could have been, what Sauron had wanted her to be, shone through. Her morals lay forgotten, her ethics abandoned, and all self-control forsaken. "You will not lay a hand on me."

And she was back. The irreverent, stubborn girl who had driven myriad elves and men to distraction was, for the first time in four long years, wholly back.

"'Ello, poppet," she laughed evilly, shrinking back to her normal size.

Undaunted now that she was smaller than they once again, the special guard closed in around her after a nod from Pilimòr, who was again looking suitably bored. Two reached forward and ripped open the back of her tunic. Merry's little voice, finished ranting, cried out at this. She did, after all, have _some_ sense of modesty. As long as they didn't tear her undershirt, Merry could keep it together. If they did that, then she would _have_ to get dangerous. Taking deep breaths, Merry tried to calm herself and relax.

"How many lashes, milord?" one of the elves asked his master.

"Five … from you," the dark ellon replied.

The other members of the special guard looked disappointed and lowered their whips. The chosen elf, however, grinned gleefully and drew his hand back, flicking the 'cat into the air with obvious enjoyment.

Crack! It struck Merry full across the back, and she jerked but somehow managed not to cry out.

Crack! The second blow hit the senior, and another tremor went through her body.

Crack! On the third stroke, she gasped, a short exclamation of pain.

Crack! This time, a low moan escaped the young woman's lips. She couldn't take much more of this.

Crack! Another moan. Knowing it was over, this time Merry allowed herself to collapse against the wall. Her back was on fire, and she could feel the blood trickling down her bruised back.

_Kill me now,_ she thought, all her spunk gone. _Kill me now. Just end it._

_Will could take this, and it didn't break _him_, did it? _persisted the little voice in the back of her head. _He didn't give up. And here you are, acting like a broken-hearted heroine of some stupid romance novel._

"Take her to her cell," the elf lord directed, waving an airy hand. "Apparently she is not to be trusted in the stables. Farewell, for a little while, tithen Naeriel."

Merry wished desperately that someone would bother to bandage her back and her arrow wound before she passed out from the pain. She felt the elves unchain her wrists and ankles, and then her exhausted body gave way. The girl was unconscious long before she hit the floor.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I hope to do better with the next chapter. Hope you enjoy this one and review!**


	11. Rohan

**Stargirl29 – Four times, mate. And counting.**

**Salsagirl626 – Yep! One of the best movies ever! And the score was just fantabulous.**

**Ogreatrandom – That might take longer than you think.**

**PippinBaggins – Hmmm… That is a possibility, but Merry would never content herself with the one line. She would have to sing the whole song.**

**Alfalfa7 – Glad you enjoyed 'ze chappy.**

**Time and Fate – Hot, Bothered, and Bedeviled, eh? **

**TheDreamChild – Speaking of Beckett, we haven't dealt with him, yet, have we? I'm thinking that's about time to change. You know, I have got to get my hands on a PS2 or sommat and find out what this Final Fantasy is all about. Or just watch the movie. **

**Tathren Lalaith – For once, your question is answered in my next chapter. Good job!**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – I'm so glad you always catch my little Animaniacs references. Where are Yakko, Wakko, and Dot today, me wonders?**

**Captain MeraSparrow – Missed the premiere, but I'm going to try and watch it from now on. So sorry about James, mate. 'Twas a real tragedy.**

**RespecttheSporks – Okay, okay, I'll accept the excuse… for now. **

**Disclaimer: Everything that sounds like it comes from Rings does. Everything else… well, at least my boredom is being put to some good use, right?**

* * *

Jack had never run either so far or so fast in his entire life, and he didn't much like it. The elf was a tireless shade, stopping only to check the landscape. Lines of worry and anger continually creased his face. Whenever they had to stop and rest, Legolas only let him take four hours, the same amount of sleep a horse required. The irony of this was lost on Jack. He felt only increasing resentment for the elf, not noticing that Legolas's regard for Merry was the cause of their dash.

Food was another problem. Legolas ate only what was necessary to survive, but even so they were running out. And so it was with increasing desperation that they finally arrived in Rohan.

"Well, we're here," Jack said sulkily, looking over the fields, but not really seeing them.

"Yes," Legolas replied, taking a deep breath as they stood, halted for a moment. "We are here, but we have much farther to go. Let us be off!"

"But… but…" Jack protested, but already Legolas had taken off in that graceful stride of his, mumbling about how they might meet a patrol, if luck held. The boy followed, grumbling softly to himself about stupid unearthly elves.

Legolas's hopes proved correct. They were found by an èored of horsemen that evening at sunset.

"Who are you, to wander at your will in the Riddermark?" their tall, blond leader demanded. "What is your business here?" His cold blue eyes lingered suspiciously on their ragtag appearance, Jack's outlandish clothes, and their obviously underfed faces.

"Legolas Thranduilion, as you know well, Elfhelm," the wood elf answered smoothly, holding his hands out, palms up, in a gesture of peace. "And charge," he added, noticing the looks they were giving Jack. "We need to speak with Èomer, if that is at all possible."

Elfhelm gazed at the elf keenly for a moment and then nodded slowly. "We have spare horses, Master Elf. To be truthful, the king has been looking for you."

"Oh?" Legolas's eyes lit up with curiosity.

"Yes. Ever since you disappeared two months ago, King Elessar has been searching for you. He asked Èomer to do the same. If I may ask, Legolas, where have you been?"

"That news I will save for Èomer's ears. May we leave directly?"

"At once, milord." Elfhelm gestured, and a large chestnut mare was brought forth. "I'm afraid you and the boy will have to ride double."

"It is no problem," Legolas said, stroking the mare's nose gently. He removed the saddle and bridle before leaping up quickly and pulling Jack up after. "The boy's name is Jack," he told the Riders. "Jack, hold on to my waist. Try not to fall."

"Riders, we go to Edoras!" Elfhelm called loudly, and the body of horsemen moved as one off at a fast gallop. Their hooves devoured the ground, turning the long grass into green flames at their feet. Jack realized rather belatedly how long it had been since his last ride. Consequently, he held on to Legolas very tightly. He noticed that even though they were riding, Legolas paid more attention to the worries that had been haunting him for days.

_I wish Merry was here,_ Jack thought desperately as they crossed a small stream and water splashed everyone's boots. In his mind's eye, he could see her, riding beside Legolas, joking with the riders, urging her mount on to fantastic speeds. "Jack," she would laugh, "relax! Enjoy the green world while you can."

Legolas's thoughts were not far different. He saw Merry in most everything around him. He felt her light touch on his shoulder, heard her chuckling at his attitude. Other, more discomfiting images came unbidden to his mind. Merry, languishing in a prison, being tortured, dying of a thousand different pains, and worst of all, cursing the day she fell into Middle-earth and met such a careless, self-absorbed elf. He couldn't even dislodge the images by thinking of the good times, the laughter, and the ever-reappearing pranks.

"Legolas… Legolas… LEGOLAS!"

The elf snapped back to the present and awareness. "What?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes," Elfhelm said tartly. "You look famished. Would you and the boy like some of our travel rations? We have cram."

"Lembas?" Jack asked.

"No, _cram_," Legolas corrected. "Yes, Elfhelm, that would be greatly appreciated."

The Riders good-naturedly divided up the food, and Jack set to with a will. Still looking troubled, Legolas chewed in pensive silence. He was no longer drowning in his dark thoughts, however. Food – and the interruption of a friendly voice – had pulled the elf back to the light and joy of the world. He wasn't afraid anymore of being pulled back into the darkness. Instead, he was filled with determination to rescue his friend, not matter how challenging it proved to be. Once his mind was made up on a point, he would stick with it, unless he was proven completely and entirely wrong, as he had been on several occasions.

Jack, sitting behind him and consuming all food within reach, was focusing only on his stomach. When things upset, annoyed, or distracted him, the senior tended to think about something else. He wasn't really a bad fellow, but facing reality, especially at a time like this, was often a hard and scary thing. Sometimes it proved to be too hard and scary, and he would concentrate on the more mundane aspects of the world around him. And so it was that Merry's best friend on Earth was focusing on the cram in his hand rather than on her plight.

The ride took two days, even with the company only sleeping a few hours a night and riding the rest of the time. Jack became thoroughly sick of horses and cram, as most of the Riders had surmised he would upon seeing him.

Jack gasped when the Hall of Meduseld at last came into view. The Riders and Legolas watched him, smirking as the boy's mouth fell open.

"Pretty, isn't it?" grinned Elfhelm.

"You could say that," Jack replied, finally closing his mouth with a snap. "What?" he snapped, catching some of them laughing behind their hands.

"Nothing," Legolas said too quickly, jerking back up, an innocent look on his face.

Jack growled and rolled his eyes. He was starting to get sick of the elf and his friends – for that was how he thought of the Riders. In the boy's mind, they were always laughing at him and making fun of him, and he didn't much like it. The thought that Merry would have told him he was being a prig and joined them in laughter did not occur to the young man at all. He was a teenage boy, and his ego had been bruised too much lately for rationality. All he could think of was his hurt pride, which could be very dangerous.

The Riders and Legolas quickly forgot about Jack's ill temper in their joy to be riding through the streets of Edoras again. The elf visibly perked up, sitting straighter and leaning forward. The brown mare nickered softly, looking up at the royal stables with obvious longing. Legolas laughed and stroked her neck.

Automatically, the horses changed gaits and trotted up to the large doors of the hall.

"Elfhelm," nodded one guard. "Lord Legolas."

"Just Legolas, please," the elf interceded.

"Yes, milord," replied the guard saucily as the elf began to scowl. "And this is…?"

"My charge," Legolas said smoothly. "His name is Jack."

"Very well. Everything seems to be in order. I shall go and announce you to the king."

As the guard went inside the hall, Legolas and Elfhelm exchanged laughing glances. The resentment inside Jack bubbled up to even higher proportions. As per usual, the other two noticed nothing.

After a short while, the guard returned and led them into the hall. They were presented to the king with little ceremony. Èomer rose from the throne on the dais and rushed over to them, embracing Legolas with a glad word of greeting.

"Where have you been?" he exclaimed, stepping back and getting a good look at the elf. "What happened? Why…"

Legolas held up a hand, stopping the deluge of questions. "I will answer everything later, Èomer," he said calmly, allowing his weariness and exhaustion to show. "But first, there is something I must ask of you."

"Ask away. If it is in my power, I will do my best to see it done," Èomer assured him as he led Legolas and Jack to chairs by the large fire. "Go ahead and tell me."

"It's about Merry. Do you remember her?" the elf asked almost fearfully.

"How could I forget?" the king drawled, leaning his chair back and stretching out his long legs.

"Something terrible has happened to her." Legolas told the whole story from the beginning, starting with his disappearance and arrival on Earth.

"And so," he finally finished, ten minutes later, "I fear the only thing to do is to ask for your help, Èomer. Gondor and Eryn Lasgalen are too far away for us to go to them for aid. Will you help me?"

Èomer thought for a long moment, sitting in silence as he considered all he'd heard. Jack fidgeted impatiently, imagining the great bonfire the golden Hall of Meduseld would make were it set alight and wondering how many marshmallows and hot dogs he could roast in its flames. Legolas, however, sat patiently in his chair, looking earnestly at Èomer. At last the king spoke.

"Legolas," he sighed, sounding thoroughly disheartened. "I know who took Merry. But there is nothing I can do about it."

With a loud thud, Legolas slid out of his chair and fell to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, there you go with another chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and I patiently await your feedback. I will do my best to update soon, as school's out for summer! I mean... no random singing moments! **

** 'Til Next Time,**

**Authoressinhiding  
**


	12. Explanations

**Iell Eruo – Something's going to happen, but you shall have to read and see.**

**PippinBaggins – Yes, I do think Èomer could have been a bit more tactful. **

**Ogreatrandom – But if I did not leave you hanging, I fear you would soon get sick of me.**

**Salsagirl626 – Apparently, it is.**

**Time and Fate – Legolas has always been rather strange where Merry is concerned.**

**Ames – Well, that's what Jack wishes they were being used for.**

**Tathren Lalaith – Once again, I fear that this chapter will answer your questions. My, I have got to stop doing this. It is so out of character.**

**Stargirl29 – Six times? Valar, girl! I've only seen it four. With five to come tomorrow.**

**TheDreamChild – I've already dragged him back. He's waiting in Erik's Chamber of Open-Mindedness for when we're ready for him.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – That wasn't the irony I was talking about, actually. I just want to see the Phantom of the Opera episode. Haven't seen that one yet.**

**Wolf – And now I shall try to make sure the poor Wolf's gums don't get too ripped up while the Wolf is hooked.**

**RespecttheSporks – Jack is usually quite angsty, believe it or not. I have rooms full of his poetry about it. **

**Protector of Canon2 – Your confuzzlement will be explained in time.**

**Disclaimer: As my dear friend Cap'n MeraSparrow knows, it all belongs to franchises.**

* * *

Legolas woke to a haze of pain. Someone was pelting him with walnuts.

"Stop it," the elf groaned, tossing and turning.

"No. Dinner's in half an hour. You're gonna be late."

Grumbling softly to himself, Legolas sat up and blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. Glaring at Jack, who was innocently eating the walnuts he had, moments before, been pelting at the elf, he asked, "What happened?" Checking the state of his hair with his long, pale fingers, Legolas winced. "I've got a lump on my head the size of Gimli's throwing axe. I ask you again, Jack, what in all of Arda happened?"

"You fainted," Jack said succinctly.

Legolas promptly fainted again, this time waking up five minutes later.

"You fainted again," Jack observed.

"Whass goin' on?" he slurred, looking drunk and not at all himself. "Whassup?"

"You just passed out – thrice," Jack told him, picking his words with care. "Are you all right?"

"I, I think so." Slowly, the elf got up from the bed on which he'd been lying and snatched a pitcher of water from the small table by Jack's chair. In a series of quick gulps, he downed it all and moved back to the bed.

"Why did I pass out?" he asked Jack, unraveling his once-tight braids with quick fingers and, more slowly, doing them up again.

"Well, Èomer said he didn't think he could help us recover Merry," informed Jack. "After that, we heard a crash, and it was you, crumpled on the floor, out cold. Èomer looked frightfully upset and ordered you brought here. Having nothing more interesting to do, I followed. He said he would come by in … about ten minutes now with supper, if you were awake. Man!" he rubbed his stomach, "I am starving! So good you're awake. Oh, yeah, I forgot! Èomer wants to talk to you some more, I think." He swallowed a walnut whole, coughed a bit, and then belched loudly.

"I didn't know one could do that off of a walnut," Legolas commented. Finished with his hair, the elf was now checking for his weapons. His bow and quiver were laid against the wall, and he quickly retrieved them. His long knife was still comfortably placed in its sheath, and the thin daggers strapped to his forearms, calves, and upper back were in place as well. He sighed in relief. "Good," the elf muttered to himself. "Now I don't have to replace anything."

Jack had been giving him odd looks ever since the walnut jibe, and the looks now increased in intensity and frequency.

"What?" It took quite a while for Legolas to notice.

"You're paranoid, and you talk to yourself. What's wrong with you?"

"I'm an elf," Legolas replied, sounding hurt.

"And so being an elf means you're paranoid and schizo?" wondered Jack.

Before Legolas could retort, however, there was a knock on the door, and Èomer entered, carrying a large wooden tray laden wit hall sorts of good, hearty, tasty foods.

"Legolas," he began, setting the try down on the table, I am sorry if what I said upset you."

"Upset him!" Jack burst out. "You made him faint!"

Thud! The elf toppled to the floor, getting up a minute later.

"Has this happened before?" Èomer asked interestedly as Legolas grabbed the water pitcher the king had brought from off the tray and drank quickly.

"The passing out, yeah," Jack replied nonchalantly. "The water-drinking, only once."

"I see. Legolas, as I was saying this morning, it simply does not seem that I will be able to help our, er, mutual friend."

"Èomer, she's only a child!" Legolas cried, sinking weakly down onto the bed. "She has done nothing to them, nothing!"

"Legolas, Legolas, Legolas," Èomer sighed, patting the elf on the shoulder kindly, "you know it isn't that simple." He sighed again. "My friend, I know who took Merry."

"What?" the elf leapt to his feet, shock and outrage playing across his face. "Why did they… How do you… Èomer… Tell me, and quickly."

The king swallowed. "Legolas, there is a group of rogue elves and men who inhabit parts of Lòrien. Their leader is, I fear, unstable and psychotic. He has a prejudice towards females who… who, well, who are untraditional, really."

"Like Merry," Legolas murmured, sitting on the bed, a horrified look on his face.

"Yes, I am afraid. The leader of the group not only hates these females, but he and his men have made it their goal to rid the world of them." A dark look came over Èomer's tanned features. "They kidnap our girls – usually teenagers like Merry who wear trousers and ride astride. Once they disappear, we never hear from them again.

"Actually, we wouldn't know who was stealing our young women but for one girl. She escaped before they reached Lòrien… the things she told us… horrible, Legolas, horrible! How the men in her kidnapping party told terrible tales of the tortures inflicted upon the girls once they arrived at their secret stronghold, and how only their leader's disdain for those 'abominations' as he called them kept even worse things from happening to them! He is smart, Legolas, oh, yes, do not underestimate him. He is brilliant enough to determine what things will torment these poor girls most."

The tall blond shuddered and went on, "This girl died two days after she was found by a patrol near the borders. She was wandering, raving, but there was no doubt she spoke the truth. I have never heard such terrible things as what she told us in my entire life, for the rider who found her brought her in with the utmost speed." Slowly, tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes and seep into this beard. "The mental state she was in when we found her… indescribable. I hope that perhaps they haven't done the same thing to Merry, but even that hope is not great. And it leads to other, worse thoughts we must consider.

"If they haven't destroyed her yet, is it because they have even worse things in store for her? We must acknowledge her past. That little girl has done more than any other person her age, male or female. She has accomplished outlandish feats our wildest daughters only dream of, Legolas. No matter where she goes, you may be sure interesting and odd things will happen. These people don't like that, Legolas. They do not see what good there is in that fiery teenager. They see only abnormality which they must destroy. You may be surprised to hear me praise that girl who so often irked me, but she is unique and special to the point of … well, you know.

"And it is because of who she is and what she's done that they took her, I think, and the reason they will torment her especially and cause her excruciating pain. Then, after all her hope is lost and spirit crushed, they will kill her." He stopped, sorrow and pain evident in the lines crossing his face. "And so, it would seem that no matter how we wish to help her, we cannot, for their hiding places are not known to us. However, I am willing to gather an army and go after them, if it will help avenge the daughters of my people and save Meredith. If there is a way to rescue her, I will do all that is in my power to see her safe," he finished, sitting down in an armchair beside Jack's, looking both resolute and sad.

Legolas rose slowly, hands firmly at his sides. "Èomer," he began, but words failed him, and he just stood there, eyes glistening with unshed tears and pain. Jack sat curled up in his armchair, pale and nervous. He was unused to such passion as Èomer had been displaying up till moments before, and the silent, shaking elf scared him not a little.

"Legolas." Èomer stood and embraced the elf, holding him tenderly in his arms as Legolas began to weep copiously. Why he wept neither could say, though perhaps the tears were born of desperation and the renewed fear that he would prove unable to save his friend. Èomer, who had lain awake many nights full of guilt because he could not protect his people, understood perfectly.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll try to update soon. As always, reviews are appreciated, and flames will be used to make hot chocolate for myself, Legolas, Will, and Erik. The three helliots have decided to return to my company and make life interesting. Interesting for who, I wonder...**

**Navaer an si,**

**Authoressinhiding**


	13. Abomination or Not?

**Salsagirl626 – That… is rather strange. Manly hugs are funny to watch. **

**Childofthekng – He can't bear to hear that he's fainted, so he faints… rather odd, really.**

**Hazelelf1183 – I adore cliffhangers. They're just so much evil fun!**

**RespecttheSporks – My lips are zipped.**

**Stargirl29 – Don't we all? **

**TheDreamChild – Very good. You're finally learning that my stories are under my control and no one else's. I applaud your knowledge.**

**Ogreatrandom – And I am excited for you to.**

**Ames – Tell James me says thanks for all the lovely compliments. I am always glad when my writing pleases – especially when it pleases such a doughty customer as the former Commodore. I shall attempt to continue to make my writing palatable for the both of ye.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Perhaps our dear Èomer is more afraid of what might happen should she die and come back to haunt him? A few more chapters may be bridging/explanation… hope you'll continue to enjoy them anyways.**

**Alfalfa7 – You'll enjoy it, I promise.**

**PippinBaggins – I like attention holders. They make you all so… desperate.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned it, I would be exploiting it shamelessly. Savvy?**

* * *

When the tears had finally stopped flowing, man and elf separated. 

"Thank you," Legolas said stiffly, wiping his eyes. He had thought he was all cried out and resolved to go on and not despair, but Èomer's words had hit home.

"It is of no consequence," the king replied nonchalantly. "Now, shall we plan our course of action over supper? I'm afraid what I brought is now cold, but I could get something hot from the kitchens."

"That sounds fine," the elf assured him, the gleam slowly returning to his eyes. "Jack?"

"Still hungry!" the teenager, always quick to secure food, yelped.

"All right. I'll go get a servant to fetch us some stew and bread and things." Èomer hurried out the door and returned a few minutes later with another huge platter laden with food. There was little talk as the meal was devoured with almost hobbit-like speed.

When at last the napkins were laid down and the plates pushed back, the planning really began. Èomer reckoned there were about a hundred elves and men in the rogues' stronghold. Calculations were made about how many Riders they ought to take, and they decided on two companies, just to be on the safe side. Then Legolas mapped the route, tracing a detailed map of Lòrien and the Gap of Rohan with a long, slender finger, while the king figured out provisions. Jack had long since fallen asleep. He was curled up in the armchair, snoring slightly. At last even the elf and man wearied of their task, and Èomer left for his bed, sure he would sleep better that night than for many previous. Legolas lay down and quickly drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Unbeknownst to him, however, Merry was also dreaming. And in her dream she called out for him, searched for him. She wandered through her memories, choosing those most poignant and sending them across the mental connection that existed between girl and elf when he took wolf's shape. The connection, though much fainter than when he was lupine and right next to her, still existed. 

Perhaps, far across the miles, he heard her, for the elf arose and went to the window. Stealthy and silent, he lifted the sash and climbed out onto the terrace. Running a hand through his hair, he moved to undo his braids. The long, golden tresses tumbled down over his shoulders for a moment before changing into thick gray fur that rippled over the powerful muscles of a wolf. Howling softly, the lupine set off in quick, bounding strides in the direction the call had come from. He ran on and on, listening as hard as only an elf could for the light, familiar voice in his mind, but it never came. Finally he stopped, exhausted and unable to go any further, curled up in a ball, and swiftly succumbed to sleep. Instantly, he was by her side.

_Merry,_ thought the wolf, pawing the limp form lying chained in a corner. _ Merry, come back!_

Slowly, taking deep, shuddering breaths, she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees.

_Legolas? _she thought to him, gazing into his eyes, a shocked look on her face. _Is it really … are you seriously … Oh, Legs!_

The wolf rushed towards her, rubbing his head against her manacled hands and rumbling low in his throat. _What has happened to you, Gelireth?_ His keen gray eyes swept over her torn and tattered clothing, bruises, cuts, and the way she winced at quick motions. _What have they done to you?_

In a moment, she opened her mind and showed him all her memories of the terrible folk who held her, what they had threatened to do to her, and what she was planning on doing to escape.

_Don't get killed, Merry. Be careful. Do what they want. It will be of no use to us if you die before we come to rescue you._

_It will be of no use to me if I lose my self-respect while in prison, Legolas. My spirit will not let me submit to people like them. Not anymore._

_You must do as you see fit. But tell me, Merry, why endanger yourself unnecessarily? Is it not better to assure your safety and life than to be prideful? _Legolas asked mournfully.

_Legolas, I'm not being prideful – at least not overly prideful. I have my will and dignity, and both refuse to be broken, savvy? I have to stand up for myself, Legolas. Why can't you see that?_

_I do see it, little one, _the wolf replied, looking at her seriously with kind eyes. _You are as strong as you used to be, as you've proved yourself to be. Allow an old elf the comfort of worrying about you when you do not bother to worry at all._

_Oh, I worry, Thranduilion. I worry that I won't make it out alive, that sometime soon the elves are going to let the men do what they want with me, and then my life won't be _worth _living. Trust me. Suicide and extreme depression, withdrawal into myself, you know, the whole enchilada – that's a dish cooked by people who speak Spanish. I am just holding out for torture and not… well, not…_

The wolf coughed loudly.

_Yeah, you know. That's what I'm most afraid of. Look, kid, I don't care if they kill me, but well, anything but that, if you know what I mean._

The wolf nodded and licked her cheek comfortingly. _ From what I've heard of this elf and his folk, they won't let one of their number do something like that. I pray that's the case._

_Me too, Legs. Me too._

Their talk (if talk it was) turned to lighter, happier things such as how Jack was taking Middle-earth. Legolas wanted to keep Merry's mind off things, and she was more than happy to let him. After some time, both fell asleep, her arms around his neck, his head in her lap.

* * *

Legolas woke to find himself curled up in the same spot on the plain where he had gone to sleep. The moon had set, and all was dark, save the elven stars above him. Cursing his folly in napping on that cold, hard turf, the wolf got up and shook before setting off at a run for the bed he had left behind many hours ago, when the moon was but beginning her voyage across the dark night sky. As he hurried along the way he had come, the lupine considered his dream. Had it been just a dream or something more? Part of him longed to think it was the latter, but the rest of him, the cynic part, refused to believe it was so and raise his own hopes too high. 

At last, footsore and weary, Legolas arrived at his open window and changed forms. Slipping through the window, he crept over to the bed and collapsed on it.

_It was just a dream, _he told himself stubbornly. _A dream and nothing more._

* * *

Leagues away, a teenage girl woke up crying. She buried her face in her chained hands and gave in to total sorrow and loneliness. Her friends were far away, and even dreams of their presence could not relieve her pain. Thinking her dream but a dream, she gave in at long last to despair. 

_When push comes to shove, dreams are just dreams and nothing more, _Merry thought despondently. _And they can't help you. _With a sigh, she ran over a list of damages in her mind. Chafed wrists, arrow wound, whip strokes, and a horrid migraine. At a loss for what to do about it, she did the only thing a teenager could do in her situation: slept. Back she went into the world of wraiths and dreams that occupied most of her time. Sweet peace enveloped her for a few blessed hours, and she slept.

The girl was woken by the clang of the cell door as someone came in to feed her. She felt more and more like a caged bear every day. People fed her, she never bathed, and they usually didn't dare come near her. The only times they _did_ come within arms' reach was when they were going to hurt her. As the elf captain – she knew Trìwath's face _very_ well by now – came towards her, she instinctively growled low in her throat. The elf snorted as he shoved a tray of undistinguishable food in front of her with a pole.

"Don't come near me," the seventeen-year-old ordered, withdrawing even further into her dark corner.

"It's all your fault, really," the elf snapped, walloping her with the pole out of sheer irritation. "If you weren't such an abomination, you wouldn't be here."

"I am not an abomination," Merry spat. She got walloped again for it. "I'm not, I'm not, I am _not!_"

He gave her another hard blow and left, laughing as he went. Although she had presented a brave front while Trìwath was in the room, a new question had entered her mind. Were the elves right? Was she really an abomination?

* * *

**Author's Note: There you are, another chapter for my precious readers. I hope you enjoy it. As always, reviews are appreciated, and flames will be used to cook pies. Legolas, Will, and Erik saw Rattatouille with me and now desire to become chefs. Needless to say, I intend to eat somewhere else for a long while.  
**


	14. Fluctuations in Mood

**Inwe – You can't control the angst front, mate. That simply isn't fair. Besides, I have way too much fun with it.**

**Salsagirl626 – Oh, thanks. I love writing the Leggywolf bits. They're always so much fun.**

**The Illustrious Crackpot – Most movies nowadays tend to have too many subplots. Did you see the movie Stardust? There were subplots in that one, but I loved them all.**

**Ogreatrandom – Thanks for the praise.**

**PippinBaggins – I think you had to miss it for a bit longer than that… sorry!**

**Stargirl29 – Sometimes the best stories are the sad ones.**

**RespecttheSporks – Honestly, that wouldn't surprise me at all.**

**Alfalfa7 – You certainly had to look forward quite a bit. Sorry!**

**That Tath – Just a warning, it'll probably get even more dark and depressing before all's over. Sorry 'bout it.**

**Keuka – You had to wait a while, and I apologize.**

**Protector of Canon2 – You have no idea…**

**Disclaimer: If I owned it, I would be exploiting it.**

**Author's Note: Ladies, gents, mostly ladies…. I apologize that it's been over two months since I updated last. In my defense, I have been rather busy, but still, that does not absolve me of my other sins… JAMES! – sob – How could they kill him? I'm still getting over that, mates. Ehem. On to the much awaited chapter.**

* * *

As time went on, the days began to run together for the girl. Every day was exactly like the one before, the only distinguishing factor being the days she was put on the rack, beaten, or otherwise tortured. Gradually her screams faded. The light went out of her eyes, and she lost tremendous amounts of weight. Merry also began to get sick . She would be up late into the night with a hacking cough.

Her chain had been moved and lengthened so that she could move about the cell from her pallet to the chamber pot in one corner. Her guards made sure she could not come any closer than five feet to the door. But they need not have bothered. Long, slow nights of sickness, constant pain and humiliation, and the lack of daylight and wind on her face had drained her urge to fight back. Merry was even grateful for the scanty amount of food the elves gave her. In short, they had nearly broken her will, and both the girl and her captors knew it.

Merry lay on her pallet, not looking at her manacled hand. She wasn't coughing yet, and for that the flautist was thankful. Her mind, however, was bored. Focusing only on her injuries led to useless depression, and so tonight Merry was decidedly _not _going to think of her situation. But then, what else had she to think about? Pondering over her friends, family, and old life led only to sorrow and despair. What could she do?

_Sing. _Her voice, silent for so long, had spoken at last.

_What?_

_That which you feel._

_Well that's just maddeningly unhelpful._

"No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears. You're safe, no one will find you, your fears are far behind you. Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you. All I ask is every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Spend each day with me, each night, each morning. Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you…" Merry continued with the song, never quite sure if the lyrics were right but not caring. Once her song ended, she started on "Remains of the Day", complete with dance moves, instrumental solos, and different voices.

Some of the men yelled at her to be quiet, but the elf lord quickly stopped them. He wanted to see this, to gain more evidence to support his conclusion that she was an abomination. It was indeed strange to watch the teenager whirl in circles, arms upheld as she sang, "In 1814 we took a little trip along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip. We took a little bacon, and we took a little beans, and we fought the bloody British at the town of New Orleans. Well… we fired our guns, but the British kept a coming. Wasn't quite as many as there was a while ago. Fired once more, and the British were a-runnin', down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico… hup! Two three four!"

"Tithen deloswen," Pilimór's silky voice came from the other side of the door, "if you do not stop this cacophony this instant…"

"You'll fry me in boiling oil? Not enough black gold in these parts. And I doubt you have something big enough to boil me in. Either way, you're out of luck." Merry grinned evilly, her spirits much restored. It was amazing what a bit of random singing would do for the psyche. "Do clarify what you meant, dearie."

The imp of the perverse had taken control, aided and abetted by the little voice in Merry that never could behave. The singing and dancing had given her a natural high, and though there would probably be a price to pay later, Merry was going to milk this moment of total insanity for all it was worth – and perhaps a deal more. Casually, she leaned against the wall, letting her dark hair fall across her face. The only thing warring with her at ease persona was the iron bracelet and chain connecting her firmly to the cell's wall.

"You are an abomination," he snapped, glaring at the smirk on the flautist's face.

"Maybe. But I'll get over it. You, well, I'm afraid you'll be the wrong end of a horse for life."

His glare intensified even as her smirk deepened.

"Why are you so… so…" –

"Annoying? Impudent? Sarcastic? 'Cuz I want to be. Oh, craznocks! You just caused me to use slang! Crikey, not good! I do pride meself on me proper speech, old bean. Oy! More slang, though that one was English and rather old."

"Ehem," Pilimór coughed slightly. "If you are quite through…"

"Nope. Not even halfway done. Slang is gross. 'Kid' for children is okay. Snap! Okay is slang. So is that particular use of 'snap'. Oy! My world is full of slang… at least I don't use as much as is on the boob tube… Craznocks!" She clapped a hand to her forehead and muttered to herself for several minutes before finally stopping. With a soft sigh, she collapsed cross-legged onto her pallet, her head in her hands.

"What is it you were threatening to do to me?" she asked Pilimór wearily, giving the damp cell walls a mournful glance.

"It is of no importance now." His voice was as silky as ever. "Tomorrow, however…"

"Yes?" No emotion was allowed to show in her carefully guarded tone.

"You will be receiving a friend. I expect you to show her how things are run around here."

"Oh? How long will she, ah, be with us?"

"Until one of you moves on."

"To Mandos, you mean." She looked into his eyes and saw she had guessed correctly.

"Do not worry, Naeriel. Your time in that cell – indeed, in this very world – draws to an end. You bore us."

Lost in thought, she did not reply. If she was truly to be executed soon, a plan must be made to save her own life. Therefore, the quieter she was, the better. When all the men and elves had left, Merry stood and began to pace 'round her cell. Every time one of her feet touched the slimy floor (her boots had been lost long ago), a picture sprang to mind. These very flagstones, swimming and slippery in her own crimson blood as her body was cute to pieces with sharp knives wielded by the brutal men and elves. Or herself writhing on the floor in agony as her body was wracked with the torments caused by some terrible poison.

Merry shivered. Wrapping her arms about herself, she prayed that she would be able to think up a plan, to escape, to live to return home. But even as she prayed, the cold numbness returned, and with it a surety of her death. She could not always fight the pain and fear. It overwhelmed her defenses, and her mind and heart became cold and apathetic. She would die, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The one part of the seventeen-year-old that still cried out for freedom was shut away, unheard, in some remote part of her head.

The singing had, it must be said, relieved her depression for a while, but it could not hold the darkness at bay forever. As Merry collapsed onto her straw-filled pallet, wearier than she had been a scarce hour earlier, she wondered about her friends. Were they still searching for her? Had they forgotten her? Did they no longer care about her? Or were they trying as hard as she was and finding themselves foiled at every turn. Overcome by her sense of inevitable doom, the girl buried her face in her knees and cried.

* * *

**A/N: Again, sorry this took me so long to get posted! I beg your forgiveness and plead for your reviews. This chapter was typed to Michael McLain, the Beatles, Relient K, and Avril Lavigne. Odd combinations, I know. Hopefully the next chapter will be up in less time than this one took.**


	15. Baths are Great, Roommates, Not So Much

**Albert – Honestly, I never thought of that. Good point, though. Let's just say Legolas was too distraught to think clearly, okay?**

**Hawkear – I really miss you, luv. Please come back and read… or at least talk to me. BTW, I showed my biology teacher your photosynthesis story.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.**

**A/N: I beg your forgiveness for abandoning Merry. I return to her and promise never to leave her again. Breaks between chapters shall not be over a month long. Anywaffles, here's a lovely long chapter to make you all realize exactly how much I love you.**

* * *

The elf lord's promise of a friend was fulfilled quite early the next day. Merry was woken from her fitful sleep before the sun was even up by two elves carrying in another pallet. They held their noses on the way out and breathed loudly through their mouths.

"You do realize I wouldn't smell at all if I actually got baths and clean clothes, don't you?"

This pointed remark led them to stop and stare at her. When the girl returned the look, the elves held a hushed conversation before dashing off.

Merry sighed, not surprised in the slightest. While a bath would be extremely refreshing, it was highly unlikely she would get one. Best not to get her hopes up.

Unusually, however, the two elves came trotting back into view several minutes later, carrying several lengths of cord and – Merry's heart set to racing as she saw it – what looked like a key. Briskly, they reentered her cell. The girl trembled with either anticipation or fear (she knew not which it was) as the ellyn unchained her right wrist and tied it to her left with the cord. After threatening her with everything from disembowelment to strangulation, one led her out of the cell while the other went as rearguard, his drawn sword often poking into her back. It prodded her forward, and she tripped quite often on the flagstones but always caught herself just before a fall. The girl's eyes roamed over the walls and stairs, making as good of a map as she could in her head. As it was not a long walk, her map could not become as large as she wished, but she expected that.

The walk ended at a thick wooden door. Slowly, one of the ellyn opened it and then shoved Merry inside with inhuman speed, locking the door behind her. The other ellon had untied her wrists a moment before, so that was all right. Looking around her, Merry smiled. It was a small room made of stone with no windows. Several candles sat plump in their sconces along the walls, lending the room their light and a pleasant lavender scent, but they were all high, far above her reach. A wooden tub lay full of steaming water in the center of the chamber. Beside it sat a bar of so, an old, clean towel, and – Merry's heart leapt – a pile of clean clothes. Grinning happily, the seventeen-year-old peeled out of her dirty things and slid into the bath. She scrubbed her body and hair vigorously, removing the old dirt and smoothing out the tangles. The girl leaned back into the scalding water and allowed the heat to slowly ease the tensions in her muscles.

When at last she had finished, the flautist stepped out of the tub and began to towel off and dress. The piled clothes were a bit loose, but anything would have been at that point she had lost so much weight. It felt so good to have clean underclothes, trews, and tunic. The crisp linen undershirt seemed a cloud. There was also a pair of soft leather shoes. Once dressed, Merry ran her fingers through her hair, looking distractedly for a comb and finding none. With a sigh, she parted her hair and quickly did it up into one long tight braid. Just as she was securing it with a leather thong, someone banged on the door.

"Hurry up in there!" one of her guards yelled.

Startled, she jumped and then winced. Her body had seen too many injuries for her to jump around like that. Sad that her quiet alone time was over, Merry called back, "I _am _ready." Her heart sank further with every micrometer the door opened.

One of the elves grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her from the room. His fellow bound her wrists with a new length of cord.

"Thanks for the bath," Merry smiled. A bit of kindness couldn't hurt.

"You smelled so terrible one was inevitable sooner or later," the ellon binding her replied in a snide voice.

Merry ignored this. It wasn't worth getting worked up about, not in the least. She had heard much better insults, had made them up herself, in fact. This one was to her a mere trifle, not worth even so much as a comeback.

Throughout the walk back to her cell, the girl rejoiced in the feeling that came of fresh clothes and clean skin. She did not allow her state of mind to interfere with mental map-making, however. A bath, while night, cannot entirely right hurts and bruises, no matter how hot the water or cleansing the soap.

The elves shot her odd looks as she hummed softly in a happy tone. Somehow, the cold granite of their hearts melted a tiny bit. Perhaps it was the lullaby-ish music, or the fact that she was young and pretty and in a good deal of trouble. NO matter the cause, the elves began to feel slightly sorry for her but not enough to change their behavior. They marched her back to her cell with the same speed and inconsiderate behavior as before, but Merry didn't really care. She was clean and had gone to a happy place inside her head where Nanny McPhee was playing on a large screen.

When they stopped outside her cell, Merry noted with joy that her dirty pallet had been replaced by a clean one.

"Thanks," she murmured again, even as the elves chained her once again. She could have sworn she heard a whispered "le govaded" as they left. Smiling softly to herself, the young woman curled up on the pallet, exhausted. It had been a long while since she'd been so clean, and the drowsiness usually brought on by a shower or bath was tenfold greater. Besides, she'd had less than five hours of sleep the night before.

Using her hands as a pillow, Merry listened intently to the calming soundtrack playing in her head. Why was it that PotC music could get her completely relaxed and content better than anything else she'd ever heard besides Josh Groban's angelic voice? Why did it calm her so? Humming "He's a Pirate", the flautist slowly slipped into dreams where she was active instead of passive, a fighter and rescuer instead of the helpless captive. Her body rested up and made repairs while the young woman's mind and heart soared, free from pain and fear, safe, for a moment, in its own world.

Surprised at the quiet, her guards peeked in every once in a while only to see the girl sleeping. She wasn't making any escape plans – just sleeping peacefully. The guards sniffed suspiciously. This was not in the least like her, this quiet sleeping at midday. The girl hadn't even had breakfast! That was in and of itself most unusual. Annoyed that she was getting sleep and they couldn't, the men – the guard had changed a few minutes previous – banged on the cell door and rattled the bars. The girl didn't wake up, only waved a hand sleepily and began to complain aloud, "Oy! Can't you give a girl a moment's peace? It's always coming and going, never a chance to sleep!"

She paused and cocked her head, as if listening to a reply.

"Oh, that's quite all right, Thranduilion. I understand."

Cold hands griped each man's shoulder in a painful vise. They were pulled back by the elf lord, who hastened to unlock the cell door and throw it open with a clang. The loud noise startled Merry, and she woke with a start, sitting up and pulling herself into a defensive ball.

Pilimór laughed as two elves shoved another girl into the cell and chained her, too. "Say hello to your new playmate." And he shut the door with a boom.

Merry sighed as the door slammed and she found herself alone with the new person.

"Who are you?" asked a girl's voice tentatively.

The seventeen-year-old turned to look at her. The other girl gasped. She was quite unprepared to meet that sunken face, those dead, hollow eyes. She took a step back and fell on her bottom onto her pallet.

Merry surveyed the quivering girl before her with a grim smile. Unsurprisingly, her new cellmate was very petite with glossy blond curls and sparkling blue eyes. She looked no more than twelve, and she trembled under the intense, catlike stare of the older girl.

"The question is, my lovely little duckling, who are you?"

"I asked first!"

Torn between amusement and annoyance, Merry smiled to herself. The child had spunk.

"All right, miss. I am Meredith Lee Wood, preferably know as Merry L. Wood, or Merry, Uruva, Gelireth, and even Mer. Other names include tithen deloswen and Naeriel, neither of which I find palatable." Seeing the look of awe on the little girl's face at the thought of so many names, she hurriedly finished, "But you can call me Merry."

"The Merry?" the little girl asked.

"Eh? What?"

"Are you _the_ Merry? The one who played a great part in the War of the Ring?"

"Um," Merry looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable, "technically that was me, but I really didn't play that big of a role. I wasn't a major character or even a minor one. I was just there. I influenced no events and lost my lunch countless times. I'm not a hero. I'm not even an adult."

The younger girl looked up at the senior, awe still in her eyes. "But you went," she said softly, almost to herself.

"Yeah," Merry sighed. "Yeah, I went. But enough about me." The seventeen-year-old could see the telltale signs of hero-worship beginning to show on her listener's face and quickly changed the subject. "What about you? How come you to be here?" A hawkish look in her eye, Merry leaned forward, awaiting her answer with great interest.

"I was a farmer's daughter in Rohan," she answered. "My father spoiled me by allowing me to do things none of my friends could. I rode and learned the arts of war."

Merry frowned. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," the other girl replied cheerily.

_Forget little, _Merry thought to herself. _She's almost as old as I am… but she acts all of about three. Hmmm._

"Anyways, one day I was out alone, practicing a battle dance where none of the warriors would see me, when these terrible men came upon me and kidnapped me. They bore me with all due speed here. Oh, the horrors I've seen!"

She shuddered theatrically. Merry didn't so much as bat an eye. This girl might think she'd seen horrors, but the flautist was willing to bet her tonsils that she'd seen more. She just sat there quietly, willing her mind back to the sleep she'd been woken from. But of course this was not to be.

"SO, um, you know a lot of important people, don't you?"

Mental eyeroll. "Perhaps." Merry leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, hoping her cellmate would get the not-so-subtle message and be quiet. To further along her message, the captive hummed, "Silence is golden, golden." It didn't work.

"What are they like?" the girl asked eagerly.

Merry didn't answer for a moment, thinking. The memories being asked for were both fun and sad, bittersweet to her now she languished in the cell. Quietly, she thought of Elladan and Elrohir: nights spent wrapped in their cloaks by a campfire as they laughed at her shivers; days spent riding and enjoying themselves, watching the worries slip from their faces; evenings in a private sitting room, swapping tales and jokes. Laughter and tears. Fights and apologies.

A golden head entered her thoughts, and Merry recalled the tight hold of a wounded friend on her waist, the warm breath on her neck, the thankful glance when she turned her head. Every time he got mad and then forgave her, merry green eyes that never stopped twinkling, no matter how much the trouble. Unwavering faith, unselfish love, unending patience. Hope that she would be what he saw in her, knowledge that she would. Pranks, dances, and near-death experiences. Saving his life through pure determination and persistence. Years of memories passed through her head and heart in moments, and Merry hastened to blink back tears.

How she missed them! How she longed for a calming hand on her shoulder, a whispered jest or word of comfort, a grin of shared triumph! How she desired one embrace in which her fears would flee and safety enclose her. How she missed those who had been there for her every moment. How alone she was!

"Well, what are they like?" the younger girl asked again.

"Like wind off the sea," Merry answered softly. "Like mornings in spring that never end. Like a long-forgotten dream. Like moonlit forest glades. Like children and sages all at once. Like, well, like themselves."

"How well do you know them?"

"Them? Who is 'them'?"

"You know, all those famous people you're connected with."

Eyes closed, Merry considered what to say. "I know them as they know me. I loved them and would give even my life for them." _And they would do the same for me, _she added silently, remembering promises made long ago. "Do not assume I speak of all you fantasize of. I mean only the sons of Elrond and Legolas of Mirkwood."

Her eyes became glazed over with the look of a teenage fan-girl. Merry knew it well from past experience.

"You know them!" she gushed. "They're gorgeous."

"Yeah." _They are. But they're my friends. So you can't have them._

Depression was falling over Merry again. This new girl, instead of easing the boredom and loneliness, had increased it twofold.

Just then, the cell door opened, and Triwath entered, carrying two bowls. Seeing them, Merry perked up visibly. "Be that breakfast, oh noble sir? Food for the prisoners?"

"Stew."

"Uggh! This looks disgusting!"

Merry and the captain exchanged exasperated looks, something neither had ever thought would happen.

"Ta!" the flautist called as the elf left, and she set to.

"This food is loathsome! How can you stand to eat it?"

"I'm hungry. If you don't want yours, I'll eat it. I am just glad they gave us spoons." As the other girls stared at her open-mouthed, Merry chuckled softly to herself. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Æthelflædd."

Merry choked on her stew. "Nice name."

"It was my grandmother's." Æthelflædd spoke of her name as if it were a ring or some other family heirloom.

"Oh."

At that moment, the door flew open again, and Merry put her bowl down quickly and stood up. She thought she knew what was coming.

"Time for a little 'session'!" leered a man she didn't recognize. Merry's heart sank. She had been exactly right.

* * *

**Author's Note: I hope my chapter length reassured you that I haven't forgotten this story! I have BIG plans for Merry... just you wait and see.**

**All my love,**

**Authoressinhiding**


	16. Messenger in the Night

**Inwe - It adds dimension and a bit of comic relief. Half-Sues are fun to play with.**

**Arya Svit'kona Shur'tugal - Lovely long name. Glad you're enjoying the story.**

**Disclaimer: I own some characters, most of the ideas, but none of the places or canon people... stupid franchises.**

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With surprising grace, Merry nodded, hands at her sides. The man came further into the cell, causing Æthelflædd to shrink against the wall. Merry remained still as he unlocked her manacle and, holding a drawn dagger, forced her to walk before him. The minute she was out the door, and elf took over from the man, resting a hand on her shoulder, a hand that threatened to cause great pain if she misbehaved. Of course, the girl daren't do so much as yell when they were guarding her so closely, let alone make a bid for freedom. Behind her, she could hear the protests and cries of Æthelflædd as the man went back for her.

"What is it this time, my friend? The rack, lashes, perhaps the breaking of bones… what?"

He did not reply or in any other way indicate he had heard her.

Soon, they came upon the torture room, and in they went. Pilimór, Tríwath, and the special guard were waiting. They looked up expectantly as Merry entered.

"Come here," drawled the elf lord, indicating the space of wall between himself and his captain with a nod.

After her guard let go of her, the young woman obeyed orders.

"Yes? What is it you want?" she asked, standing in the spot with obvious uncertainty.

"Do you like your new cell mate?" he hissed as Æthelflædd was shoved in.

Merry did not deign to answer. Trembling to be so close to two of those she hated, the girl stood quietly and thought. If she said yes, he would most likely beat her. If she said no, it would be the girl across from her who suffered agony. Merry's body still ached from the "session" three days previous. She didn't think she could take another this soon. But could the other girl take the pain? Did Merry have any right to choose her?

"What are you playing at?" she asked, eyes on the ground.

He laughed, a cold, cruel sound that chilled her to the bone. "You are simple. Let me put it plainly. Do you like _her_," he nodded at Æthelflædd, disdain clear in his tone," enough to take her punishment today as well as your own? Or shall she bear them both?" A malicious light glimmered in his eyes.

Æthelflædd gasped, turning to look at Merry hopefully. The flautist purposefully did not meet her eyes.

"The choice is yours," continued Pilimór with a smile. "Who shall die first, you or her?"

"Do you fear death?" Merry asked softly, gazing with unsettling clarity at him. "Do you fear that black abyss? All your sins laid bare, all your deeds punished?" She stood for a minute more, thinking carefully. "I will take the punishment," she said at last, pointedly avoiding Æthelflædd's gaze.

"Very good," smiled the elf, and he clapped his hands together. "Today's session will cover your developing a close acquaintance with willow rods."

As Pilimór clapped again, the special guard came and surrounded Merry. She allowed them to force her over to the wall, where she was chained. The elves stepped away to pick up wicked-looking switches, thick, long ones that would cause tremendous pain. Merry gulped. She had been so happy to get new clothes, and now they would be as tattered and blood-stained as the old ones had been.

Wham! The first blow hit, hard and cruel. Merry slammed into the wall then bounced back, certain her body would have several dark bruises in a few hours. Wham! Wham! Blows continued to rain down, coming hard and fast until they were lost in the continuous pain. At first Merry whimpered, but soon the whimpers turned to moans, then the moans to screams. Thankfully, Merry soon slipped into blessed unconsciousness.

* * *

In sleep she dreamt of terrible things for several hours. Finally waking up, the seventeen-year-old found herself back in the cell, wrapped head to toe in a large blanket. She lay there quietly as she came round, not sure who was in the cell with her. When at last the girl felt fully conscious, she sat up slowly. Pain exploded in her head, and she laid back down again.

"Thank you," sniffled a small voice Merry took to be Æthelflædd's. "You're so brave and good and…"

But Merry was back in the blackness, her body fully prepared to sleep off the pain, and heard her not. Swimming into awareness again an hour later, Merry woke just in time to see the elf captain leaning over her. She tried to move but found her body slow and unresponsive to her will. Gently, h e slipped a hand beneath her back and propped her up while feeding her soup spoonful by slow spoonful.

Æthelflædd gasped in the corner, but both elf and girl ignored her. This was the routine. Whenever their prisoner was too ill or hurt to feed and take care of herself, one of the elves – often Tríwath, who trusted few with the care of an important prisoner – would come to feed her and do the minimal amount of dressing her wounds require to keep gangrene and infection from setting in. The elves were quick and efficient at this, taking care not to cause any extra hurt. Pilimór knew that torture was nowhere near as enjoyable when the victim was oozing and bleeding, not to mention he had a phobia of pus and maggots. Of course, no one in their right minds like either. Being happiest when occupied with torture, it was the elf lord's express wish that Merry heal as quickly as might be.

The soup finished, Tríwath carefully laid the young woman back down and looked her over with a professional eye.

"Hannon le," murmured a semi-lucid Merry.

The elf did not reply; he just lifted her blanket to check some bandaging that had been done during her unconsciousness.

"G'bye," she said as he stood up to leave. A whispered 'navaer' hung in the air long after the cell door clanged shut. Smiling sleepily to herself, the girl let go and let sweat peace rush over her again in that dark, quiet place known as Nod. She could rest. Her job was done.

The very next morning, Æthelflædd woke Merry up with a screech.

"You were so brave and noble," she squealed in Merry's ear. "I wanted to thank you yesterday, but you kept on going to sleep." She shot Merry a reproachful look. "And then that elf came in here and poisoned you and looked at your…" She coughed loudly.

Drowsily, the flautist gave her cellmate an amused glance. "One, that was food – stew – not poison. Two, he was checking my bandages."

"But, but," she stuttered, looking embarrassed. "He lifted that blanket."

"He did. But I'm completely clothed underneath."

"Still, he could have been…"

"No, he couldn't. These elves have no interest in me – not of that sort, anyways. Why do you thinks it's elves doing it and not Men?"

"I don't know," she said sulkily. "All I know in they brought me here and carried you in all wrapped up in that blanket about an hour later. They didn't even bother to chain you until that one elf care. And he was quite careful about it. Seriously, though, how badly injured are you? You were bloody all over before they stopped."

Merry winced. "I'm bruised all over, and my back and legs are cut up. But they'll heal."

"Thanks again for your sacrifice."

"Sure," replied Merry, but inwardly she thought, _How many more of these 'sacrifices' am I going to have to go through?_

* * *

"My lord king! My lord king!"

Groaning, Aragorn rolled over and sat up. The servant pounded on the door once more.

"My lord, please hurry."

With another groan, Aragorn rolled out of the bed and began to dress. "Just a minute, Caerdor."

"Estel?"

The Man didn't bother turning around, knowing he would see his wife, lovely as always, looking up at him with sleep-clouded eyes. "Go back to sleep, meleth nin. It's probably just a simple report or dispute. But, Eru, why at three in the morning?"

"I have no idea… tell me about it later, won't you?" she asked blearily

"Yes." Aragorn finished pulling on his boots and grabbed his sword from its place beside his bed. The secret romantic blew his wife a kiss and slipped out the door.

"What is it Caerdor?" he asked briskly, glancing about the empty passageway lit by a single torch flickering quietly in its sconce.

Caerdor, a young man in his twenties, swallowed nervously. "There's been a messenger, sir."

"Oh? I thought so. Well, where is he?"

"In the kitchen… he has been riding as fast as he could for several days. He's eating and begs your pardon for not coming up. Poor man looked half-dead."

"Then it's a good thing you sent him to the kitchens. Whose messenger is he?"

"Éomer's, my lord."

"Oh, indeed?" Aragorn looked interested, greatly more so than moments previous. "Take me to him, Caerdor, and quickly. I fear this message may be of far more importance that I thought. I have not heard from Éomer in quite some time." He paused as if in thought for a moment. "Well, Caerdor, what are you waiting for? Let us be off"

No more than five minutes later, the tall king was sitting across a plain wooden table from the messenger. He munched softly on a piece of rich brown bread, listening intently as the tall, weary blond man gave his message and a deal more besides.

"A month ago, lord, an elf came to the court, and my lord Éomer proclaimed him to be the elf Legolas you had been searching for. Word was to be sent out as soon as might be, but that very night 'most the entire court caught sick."

The man gulped down beer from his mug and wiped his mouth before continuing with a shudder. "The elf and the little fellow he brought with him had the worst of it, I think. You should have seen them, my lord. All skin and bones, not a speck of fat on them. For over a fortnight, my lord, too, if you'll believe it!"

"I will," Aragorn urged the man on. "And then?"

"Well sir, everyone was so preoccupied in getting themselves back to health that no one thought to tell ye. Not till now."

"And why now?"

"Well, it seems the lord Legolas is on a quest, you see, and it ends up he needs your help."

"Doing what?" Aragorn was intrigued. Legolas rarely required anyone's help.

"I think, well, sir, it don't really matter what I think now, does it?"

Aragorn did not reply. He took a sip from his own mug and waited patiently for the messenger to continue.

"Anyhow, sir, this is what I was told to say." His voice took on the dull tone of memorization. "Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood sends his most affectionate greetings to Lord Aragorn, King of Gondor and Arnor, Elessar, the Elfstone of Gondor, Heir of Elendil, His Sweaty, Rugged Manliness…"

"Enough!" Aragorn was not in the least bit amused.

"Aragorn, I am sorry I astounded you with my disappearance, but I will tell you everything when we meet in person."

_Of course you will, you smug little elf, _the king thought with some annoyance.

"For it is expedient we meet. I arrived in Lorien with Merry – the dear young woman you've met before – at length. She was kidnapped due to my inattentiveness. I bid you hurry to Rohan, where Éomer and I are planning her recovery. If the twins are with you, send them as soon as you may. They are needed here. More than this I cannot say at present, but trust I remain yours in friendship. Legolas. Postscript: Please do all you can to be here within the next fortnight." The messenger ceased and went back to his meal.

"My lord?"

Caerdor's voice pulled Aragorn back from the depths of his own thought.

"Yes?"

"What would you have me do, lord?"

Aragorn sighed and massaged his temples. "Go wake the sons of Elrond, my kinsmen, and have them come to me in the queen's sitting room. Arrange a council with the captains to be held in the third hour of the morning. We are soon to become very busy, you and I. I and you. Us. Very busy." The king sighed again and got up from his chair. "Remember, the sons of Elrond in ten minutes, Caerdor."

Arwen was waiting for him, arms folded neatly over her rather loose dressing gown.

"What was the news?" she asked as he came over to her.

Aragorn gathered her into his arms and held her close, burying his face in her long, dark tresses. "We may have war on our hands." He felt her stiffen and then relax in his embrace. "I have summoned Elladan and Elrohir to your sitting room. They will be there very soon. Do you not wish to change?" He let his voice trail off.

Arwen pushed herself away from him and looked into his eyes.

"Estel, there are few people who have seen me like this, and my brothers are two of them." She laughed at the chagrin on his face. "Come." She moved over quickly and kissed him lightly. "Let us go meet my brothers."

It was not an enjoyable meeting. For once, the twins' usually expressionless faces were strained with tension.

"What is it, Estel? Caerdor would tell us naught. He just seemed extraordinarily upset. Come on, tell us," Elladan insisted.

"It would seem we have found Legolas," began Aragorn hesitantly.

"Good."

"And?" Elrohir knew his friend had not said everything just yet.

"It appears your little friend Meredith is in quite a deal of trouble."

"What happened?" Elladan looked stricken, but his brother was furious.

"According to our information, she has been kidnapped," the king stated simply.

Arwen gasped. The grey eyes of the sons of Elrond darkened with a mix of emotions that ran the gamut from pain and fear to rage and despair.

"I do not know what hope Legolas holds. They have, after all, had the girl in their possession for a month. Legolas requests your help immediately. How soon you can leave is up to you" –

"We shall be gone in a half hour," Elladan interrupted in a cold voice. "Have your servant pack us food and meet us at Roheryn's stable in fifteen minutes. Come, Elrohir."

With that, the brothers swept from the chamber, leaving the king and queen in silent shock behind them.

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**A/N: A longer chapter than usual as an apology, my darling readers, and there shall be more where that came from soon. **

**Love,**

**Authoressinhiding**


	17. A Broken Spirit

**Inwe - Smells funny? What does she smell like? **

**Just Me - Thank you. Is updating today soon?**

**Disclaimer: Look! A flying llama! - runs off with rights to 'Rings - Mwahahahahaha! For today, dear readers, I own EVERYTHING!!!**

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"We have all been blind, Tríwath. Or, at the very least, fooled."

"Fooled, sir?"

"Yes, fooled. Fooled by the cries of a girl. She has not yet changed or abandoned her hope. We have not broken her yet… and we must! And soon."

"How?"

"No more healing, for one. No more food."

"She'll starve," the captain pointed out objectively.

"Point. All right, no more good food… the dirtiest, most disgusting things in the larder. Third, her spirit has to be broken."

"Hmm. I have an idea, sir."

"And it would be…?" Pilimór was not one to mince words.

"Tell her her friends are dead or have abandoned her. Make her feel humiliated. Beat her. Force her to change in the front of the men. Do whatever it takes, sir."

"Good, very good. Start at once."

"With what?"

"Use your creativity," the elf said dryly. "I am sure you can think up something."

"How do you want her, my lord?"

"In tears, preferably. Fury and screams would be nice. Make her long to sink into the earth. Bring her to me when you've finished, all right?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then what are you still doing here? Off with you!"

Tríwath scurried away, mind already coursing through all the possibilities. He ran down the steps lightly. There was work to be done.

As the elf drew closer to the cell, the faint strains of singing met his ears, a rather common occurrence of late.

"Why have you brought me here? We must return – he'll kill you! His eyes will find us there, those eyes that burn. If he has to kill a thousand men, the Phantom of the Opera will kill and kill again. My God who is this elf who hunts to kill? I can't escape from him. I never will. And in this labyrinth where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my mind."

He had reached the cell. The new girl – Æthelflædd – was in a corner crying, her shoulders hunched, face obscured by her long blond hair. Inversely, Merry lay apathetically on her pallet, arms behind her head, humming softly. In the scant day and a half the cell had been shared, the differences between the girls had become obvious.

Æthelflædd was proud and overly sensitive while Merry was accepting and hard. Unlikely combinations, but Tríwath planned to put them to good use.

"What time is it?" Merry asked casually as the elf entered the cell.

"Get up." He didn't even bother to look at her.

Surprised, the teenager pushed herself up. She stood silently, watching him from the corner of her eye. Her muscles seized up with tension. "What?"

"I have great news for you, Naeriel." His voice was silky, his eyes dangerous.

"Yes…?"

"The elf Legolas Thranduilion is dead, killed by a party of orcs whilst traveling to Gondor," he said smoothly. "They say the sight was horrific, his body dismembered and disembowled, limbs cut off, bones broken, blood all over everything. The other members of his company had been scattered by the orcs or held captive while the prince died. Later they vomited at the sight of his dead body. They say it was terrible to watch – the orcs neatly sliced off that golden hair of his and burned it in front of him. Supposedly he screamed then as neither Elf nor Man has ever screamed before – and not due to the physical pain, either. Seems he was very attached to that hair, was our prince. Shall I tell you the rest of how he died?" the captain asked cruelly, a malicious light in his eyes. "Only, I know how you liked him…"

She didn't answer, just stood there as tears filled her eyes.

"Very well then, milady." The honorific was a jeer coming from his lips. "After burning his tresses, they began to burn his possessions. That Lorien bow and quiver, so loved by him, well, they say they made quite a blaze. And then, oh, then, the orcs set to chopping off his digits – fingers, toes, you know the like. One by one. I hear they used a rusted dull knife, too. Not very sharp, probably, but oh, so painful. Next to go were hands and feet; you know how these things go. They cut off his ears, too, Naeriel. Can you imagine how that must have hurt him? And while they were doing this, some of the orcs started nibbling on his digits – real dainty-like. They showed it to him, and what do you think he did, Naeriel? What do you think he did then?"

Again the seventeen-year-old did not reply.

"He went unconscious – fainted, perhaps. It was then they really set to. Word has it the orcs cut his belly open and helped themselves to his intestines and things like that. He moaned, then. Called your name, too. 'Merry,' he cried. 'Merry!' But you were not there to help him. He died like a dog in his blood on the highway. His companions had to bury him, thought there wasn't enough left when the orcs had finished to fill even the slightest saddlebag. News was sent by express couriers to Éomer and Aragorn. We intercepted one and forced him to tell us all he knew. Late last night he broke. We have waited all this time to decide how to tell you. My lord Pilimór is still in doubt as to whether or not I ought to have been so explicit. Perhaps I should have chosen my words with more care. Alas! Now it is surely too late. It will comfort you, I am sure, to know that he was thinking of you as he died. The last words of Legolas of the Nine Companions… strange fate that they should be your name..." With a light laugh, the elf went away.

Merry stayed where she was for a few moments more, swaying as she stood. Suddenly she whirled away to the side and threw up into the chamber pot. The flautist straightened up, trembling as she did so. The tears that had started to pool with the news of Legolas's death no threatened to spill out.

Gulping in an effort to still the tears, Merry sank down onto her pallet. The sickening sour-sweet taste of the vomit lingered in her throat, and she swallowed quickly and forcefully. It did not go away, and so the teenager reached for the ever-present jug of water and drank it one go. In her momentary lapse of concentration, the tears broke through all barriers, and spilled down her cheeks. The jug hit the floor and shattered with a horrendous crash.

_He's gone, _she thought, wrapping her arms around her knees as the world before her blurred in a pearly haze. _He's gone. My guardian, my protector, my friend._

"He's gone." The words escaped her lips, no longer thoughts. "My Legs is gone."

With the words came a great sense of loss for things that she could no longer have. Never again would she ride beside him in the sun, laughing at some joke or a silly look in his eyes. Never again, would his arms bring comfort when something terrible had happened, safety when the world was terrifying, or calming quiet when she panicked. Never again would she enjoy his sarcastic wit or run her fingers through thick, grey fur as they ran together. Those joys were gone, snatched from her in the blink of an eye by an elf's cruel words. Merry wallowed in the pit of despair.

"He's gone," she said again, the tears still flowing fast, leaving dirty tracks on her grimy cheeks. "He's gone. Oh, God, why? Why did he have to die? God, why… why? Why him?" The girl collapsed onto the pallet, curling into a fetal positition. "My God, why?" At last she abandoned herself wholly to tears.

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**Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed the quick update. Next chapter should be up sometime next week. I intend to get intense on this story! ****Ehem... The producers/franchise owners have tracked me down and put me on the rack until I agreed to admit that I own nothing. That aside, I OWN EVERYTHING!!! ****- is hit with Taser - ****Okay, so maybe I don't.**

**Until Next Time,**

**Authoressinhiding**


	18. Very Much Alive

**Inwe – You see why I had you swear off **_**before**_** I posted that lovely little chapter? **

**Albert – I thank you.**

**Ames – Once she is broken, there's really not much point to any of it.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Others own EVERYTHING. **

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Green eyes flashed in the sunlight as Legolas Thranduilion took his place beside Éomer on the ramparts of Edoras. Both males stood tall and proud, hands resting lightly on the hilt of a sword or the haft of a bow. Blue eyes surveyed the men arrayed before him and swept over those on the wall. He was taller than the elf by mere inches and dressed far more casually than the men of his household surrounding them, a brown cloak slung pell-mell across his shoulder, boots scuffed beyond repair.

In contrast, the elf was not at all sloppy. A sky-blue tunic and grey trousers – colors so different from his usual green and brown – kept eyes away from his thin face and hands. His dangerous fever had drain away much of his strength, and he still had not recovered entirely. But there was still the snap in his clear eyes and a sense of anger when he got angry.

Behind the two commanders stood a young man, dressed from head to toe in various shades of green. His head down, he stared quietly at the ground. He was – or so the gossips whispered – the elf prince's valet – or catamite, depending on who one listened to or how dirty one's mind was. Of course, only the first tale was even plausible, much less likely. But dirty minds thrive on dirty thoughts, so it was the second story heard far more often. For all this, the boy still held his head high, for he had greater things on his mind than common gossip.

"Ready?" Éomer whispered to Legolas out of the corner of his mouth.

"Whenever you are. I've waited a long time for this."

The Man nodded. It had been a hard thing for his friend, to know someone he loved was in grave danger and to be unable to do anything. But now there was a change in the air. The wind almost seemed to smell of hope. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. Many things came with being Lord of the Mark, but public speaking skills were unfortunately not among these.

"Riders of the Mark!" he called out in his clear voice. The murmurs and whispers among the crowd ceased at once. "You have been told of outlaws pillaging our land, taking our precious daughters. Last night I received news that they have taken another girl." He swallowed and went on, a grim look in his eye, "Æthelflædd of Westfold, Erkenbrand's sister-daughter. We have no choice but to act. It is my thought to go after her. Are you with me?" Éomer's eyes sparkled, his voice conveying his emotions and hopes to his people. The king stood, breathing heavily and awaited their response. He was not disappointed.

"Aye!" cried all the men before him with one voice.

"Then let it be war on them!" he roared.

The soldiers shouted their agreement again, and their king stepped back.

"Prepare to ride," he panted to one of his advisors, brushing his long, golden locks out of his eyes. "I wish to leave within the hour. Legolas, Jack, if you would follow me."

The three blonds descended quickly from the wall, king, elf, and boy. The young man was tense, and it was plain to read on his face. His older companions, on the other hand, kept their expressions bland and limbs relaxed. Only the steely glint in their eyes revealed how they felt.

"Ready, Legolas?" They reached the ground, and Éomer strode off in the direction of the stables.

"I've been ready for two months, Éomer. But thank you for this." The elf gestured with a thin hand at the men busily saddling their horses and forming companies around them. "If not for you…" he let his voice trail off.

"Don't, my friend." The man put a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "This needs to be done. And I am quite glad to be the one to do it. So why bother yourself with what-if's? They can only injure. Come on."

Nothing more was said 'til the horses were saddled and the three up on their backs. Éomer, on his noble Firefoot, looked much the part of a warrior. His long hair blew back into the wind, whipping about like a horsetail in search of flies. His eyes, twin blue flames, burned merrily in his skull. Everyone could see their king's eagerness for battle.

Legolas sat calmly on the brown mare he had ridden upon arriving in Edoras. The elf had quiver, bow, and knives. What more could he need, apart from the men gathering themselves together around him?

_I will not fail you, Merry, _Legolas thought fervently, his free hand clenching around the hilt of one of his knives. _I will get you back. I swear it._

Jack, alone of the three, was perched nervously upon the overly placid gelding allotted to him. After a careful examination of the young man's riding prowess, the horse master had judged 'Bell, as the gelding was known, to be the only horse safe for the teenager to ride. Most of the Riders secretly laughed about this, but they were of course wise enough not to do so in Jack's presence.

"Éomer!"

Immediately the king halted Firefoot and turned to face the man who had spoken. It was one of his counselors, a small, clever man who would help Lothiriel rule Rohan while he as away.

"Yes, Fréalas?"

"There are two Elves here to see you, milord."

"Are there, indeed?" He sent Legolas a flashing glance. "Bring them to me. At once."

"No need for that, milord. They are already here."

Two identical shadowy figures stepped out from behind the man, leading two horses, one black, one white. Jack and Bell stepped back, and Éomer looked noticeably startled, though to his credit he quickly recovered. Only Legolas remained calm.

"Friends, what brings you here?" The wood-elf dismounted smoothly and went over to the strangers.

They cast off their hoods, and Éomer recognized the sons of Elrond. The king nodded to them respectfully, and they returned the gesture. Looking at Legolas intently, the twins noticed for the first time how he had changed. One after another, both Elrohir and Elladan gave their friend a crushing embrace.

"We heard," Elrohir said simply as they broke apart. "So we came to help."

"I am exceedingly glad of it," Legolas replied.

"As am I," broke in Éomer. "You may ride in the first file, if you will, alongside Legolas and myself."

"Thank you." Elladan glanced at his brother for a moment before continuing, "We would be honored to."

Éomer nodded, thinking. The three elves remounted and guided their horses into line.

"Riders of Rohan" the king called suddenly, standing in his stirrups. "To war!"

With loud affirmation, the host of Rohan swept away from the city on their way to war.

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**Author's Note: Short chapter, yes, I know, I know. My apologies.**

**Authoressinhiding**


	19. Tortured Thoughts

**Ames – No, he hasn't. As per request, I am updating.**

**Just Me – Is this soon enough?**

**Disclaimer: I've repeated it so often… go look at some other chapter.**

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"What happened, Legolas?" Elrohir whispered after a while. "You have been away for far too long. Where did you go?"

"Indeed. You must tell us," his brother chipped in.

"Patience," Legolas hissed back at them through clenched teeth. "Must I tell you now?"

"Yes." Elladan's voice was incredibly firm.

"Very well. They marooned me on an Eru-forsaken spit of land with nothing but a pistol and one shot. So I wade out into the water and wait there for three days and three nights, until the fish get acclimated to my presence. Then I ropes me a couple of sea turtles, lashed 'em together, and made a raft."

"Legolas. Middle-earth to Legolas. You are not a pirate," Elrohir sighed.

"You know that?"

"Of course. Merry used to quote it all the time."

"Oh… did she really?"

"Oh, yes. You did not meet her when she was in her pirate stage." Elladan shivered. "Anyway, quit dodging the question and give us some information."

"Fine. I was running across the Pelennor when all of a sudden I was in Merry's world. Somehow, she found me. I have no idea how. She just did. We spent at least a month trying to return home. Eventually we had to let him," Legolas jerked his head towards Jack, who could hear nothing more of the elves' conversation than a soft buzzing, "in on the secret. His first idea worked (ironically), and we landed in the Dimrill Dale. We made our way through Lorien – Merry's map helped. On our last day, she fell back. By the time we returned to look for her, it was too late. I found this in a clearing." The elf pulled a tattered piece of paper from his belt. It was the note Merry's captors had left for him.

The twins pored over the letter, examining it closely. Somewhat suspicious of these strange, dark elves, Jack watched them with narrowed eyes.

"I like this even less than before," Elladan murmured with a furrowing of his brow. "They knew too much."

"Mmmm." Elrohir took the note from his brother. "How long have they had her, Legolas?"

"A month or so."

"A month, five days, twenty hours," Jack recited, glaring at all three elves. They ignored him.

"So she could still be alive."

"It's possible, yes."

"No!" Jack cried inappropriately. "She's alive! I just know it!"

"Éomer," Elrohir ignored the teenage boy once again. "Éomer, how brutal are most of the Men you have known? From your experience, how cruelly could they treat our Gelireth?"

Éomer swallowed. "Men can be much…" He paused to gather his thoughts. "They are much more brutal then Elves, I think. I have known men who care only for their own pleasures, who delighted in the pain and suffering of others. Men with the minds of orcs. They will not have treated your girl gently."

The man laughed bitterly. "Gentlemen, what would you have me say? That they will honor her and protect her? We all know the folly of such words. I will not lie to you. Our only witness to this party's cruelty was told girls rarely lasted a week, the pain inflicted upon them was so great." He held up a hand. "Now I know Merry is strong. I know she is brave and clever. But I cannot promise that she lives or dies. Mor Gurth – that is their name – has not shown mercy before, and I would not be so optimistic as to expect it of them now. I am sorry."

Minutes passed in silence. Éomer was thinking, forcing panic from his mind, relaxing his muscles, preparing himself for battle. The men took their orders from their quiet king, and so the whole company meditated. They were ready to take back those of their daughters that still lived and be avenged for those that were dead. It was not merely an order but a compulsion. They must do this. Every jaw was set, every eye shone with determination. They would not fail these tortured girls. They could not.

The company wound its way through meads and streams, seldom stopping and that only when the horses were exhausted. Éomer thrived on the riding and short commons. His bright eyes twinkled as some of the men sang bawdy songs or a horse broke loose of the company at a gallop.

Jack fell into resentfulness, glaring at Éomer and the elves. He was jealous of their riding prowess and the ease with which they talked of the common battle. The inobservant teenager failed to notice the pain in Legolas's green eyes and the worry that gave Elrohir such a pinched look. He did not see the way Elladan stroked his dark horse's neck every few minutes or Éomer's dark periods of silence. He was too obsessed with his own feelings of guilt and incompetence. Not all of it was Jack's fault either. Hard as it had been for thirteen-year-old Merry to adapt to a harsh, demanding, new world, it was even more difficult for emotionally unstable Jack.

Besides him, Legolas wrestled with his own uncertainties. Was Merry still alive? He had to believe she was, if only for his own sake. If she was dead, he would not know what to do. Perhaps he would revert back to the elf he had been before Merry: quietly handsome until his thoughts and feelings built up in him, and then they all came out in a rush. Distracted and flighty unless hunting or tracking. He had gotten on quite a number of folks' nerves, he knew, and he did not want to be like that again.

On the other side of Legolas, Elladan was worrying about his younger brother. Elrohir sat hunched over in the saddle, his face hidden by his grey hood. Ever since he had found out about Merry's abduction, Elrohir had smiled rarely. Elladan had never seen his brother like this – at least not for many, many years. He hardly ate and looked a nightmare upon close inspection.

Elladan understood how his brother felt. He knew Elrohir's need to know everything he could and to make plans for Merry's rescue. The elf guessed his younger sib was doing this to prevent himself from being sucked into depression, but he wished Elrohir would share what was going through his mind. It was hard when one's twin bottled everything up inside.

_What am I going to do about him? _Elladan thought. _How can I pull him from the abyss of depression if she is dead? Eru, how can I keep myself from falling? How can we help Legolas survive? He loved her more than we did, for we had other things, other cares, other loves. But he… he always spoke of Merry with the utmost regard and esteem. She loved him, too. Oh, my…._

"Elrohir!" He turned to his brother with a soft whisper no one else heard.

"Yes?" Elrohir's voice was equally quiet.

"Does Legolas love Merry as I think he does?"

Elrohir needed no further explanation. "Yes, of course. Only he doesn't see it, poor fool."

_It's as I thought, then._ Elladan looked back to his own mount, the long, slender fingers of one hand absent-mindedly braiding the gelding's mane. _If she dies, will he go to the Havens? Will Legolas forsake Middle-earth out of grief and despair? Will he do as Naneth did? _

His thoughts grew too dark, and Elladan reined in his horse. He guided it from the file and rode back to circuit the company for a while. Peace came for a short while as the elf galloped his dark animal, all thoughts and worries pushed far away.

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**A/N: Forgive the shortness. I just wanted to update again. Hope you enjoy the chapter. **

**Authoressinhiding**


	20. Breaking In

**Ames – Of course you would think it was cute, you werewolf lover!**

**Inwe – And I've been updating, mate. **

**Disclaimer: I own myself, a grand piano, an archer's short sword, and a good-for-nothing former-stray cat named Hobo.**

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"Legolas. Legolas. Legolas!"

"Shut yer yap, girl."

Merry's eyes flashed open in an instant. She was not, as she had supposed, in Rivendell with Legolas waiting for the twins to get back from one of their orc-hunting ventures. She was still in her cold cell.

Banging on the door and looking thoroughly disgruntled was a guard. "Shut up, you louse."

"Legolas," the girl murmured again, closing her eyes sleepily. "Legolas. I am coming. Wait for me." In seconds she was dreaming again.

"Merry."

_Go away,_ the girl thought, drawing even further into her vegetative state.

"Merry." Æthelflædd's voice would not go way. "Merry!"

"Spiggle spoggle gaggle snort."

"Wake up!"

Merry sat up slowly, opening her eyes with great reluctance. "What is it?" Her voice was slow and quiet, her eyes dull and lifeless.

"What's wrong with you?" the younger girl asked somewhat sulkily. "You've been babbling and disturbing my sleep for days."

"Get over it," Merry mumbled her band director's motto. "My… best friend just died, all right?"

"Ooooh. Who?"

"'Tisn't any of your business."

With a soft sigh, Merry brushed her hair back from her eyes. It was dull, tangled, and greasy. "Eru, I need a bath." She tried to run her fingers through it, but that only hurt terribly badly. Wincing, the flautist gave up and set to other things. Carefully, she felt her face. It was dirty and crusty. Her eyes, she knew, had to be red and puffy from all the crying she'd done lately. Dried blood blossomed around a cut on her cheek, one she didn't even know she had.

Suddenly Merry found her belly cramping with a desperate need to use the restroom. She quickly tried to stand but failed. Again she pulled herself up. Again she fell. Defeated at last, the teenager crawled over to the chamber pot and managed to get herself in a crouching position over it. Tears spilled down her cheeks even after she had somehow returned to her pallet.

_What has happened to me? _Merry wondered as Æthelflædd stared at her, disgust and shock written plainly on her doll-like face. Merry cried harder, now sobbing audibly.

"Legolas," she murmured softly, wiping away some of the tears with a dirty hand. "Legolas."

An hour later, the cell door opened and Triwáth stepped in.

"How are you doing this morning, my fair ladies?" he asked with a cruel smile. Anyone could tell from the anger on the blonde's face and the huddled, dirty, shaking dark-haired girl that things were going very ill, indeed. "Not too well, I see. Would you like a change of scenery, perhaps? A glimpse of the sky before you die?" He watched them carefully before continuing, "Then come with me."

Æthelflædd stood quickly, holding out her shackled arm for him to unlock it. Eagerness gleamed in her blue eyes, and she looked up at Triwáth with determination. The ellon unchained her and shoved her towards another elf who stood in the doorway of the cell.

Oozing cool disdain, he walked over to Merry.

"Get up, Naeriel," he spat, kicking her in the ribs.

The girl attempted to stand but fell over before she was halfway up, landing with a painful thump. Triwáth carelessly kicked her again, causing her to struggle to stand once more. This time when she fell, she did not try to rise. Merry just sat there, staring numbly at the floor. She was crying again.

Cursing her loudly, the elf bent over and pulled her up by her armpits. In order to keep her on her feet, he pinned her against the wall with his body while unchaining her. Still cursing, the elf lifted Merry into his arms, cursing even louder upon realizing that she had fainted.

"What is the matter with her, sir?" the younger elf asked as he looked up from binding Æthelflædd's wrists.

"Her time is almost over," the captain replied curtly, "and I am glad of it."

"Why? Was she not entertaining?"

"Too brave and too much trouble to take care of."

"She looks broken now, milord."

"Oh," Triwáth laughed. It was a cold, cruel sound that sent shivers up Æthelflædd's spine, "she is. Things will be more interesting from now on. Her mind will disintegrate, her heart collapse. She cannot brave our distaste, she cannot endure our disapproval. It will hit her hard and break her even more. Today, we begin."

"With what?" the younger ellon wondered, prodding Æthelflædd forward with unnecessary force. She tripped, and he chuckled.

"With guilt," Triwáth answered simply. "With guilt and self-incrimination." He shifted his limp burden. "To the small torture room, Traston. The special guard should be waiting."

"And the lord Pilimór?"

"Perhaps he will watch, perhaps not. I do not know. Ah! Here we are."

Shunting the door open with his foot, the captain carried the unconscious girl inside. He promptly handed her over to a member of the special guard.

"Wake her," the ellon directed as Traston pushed the other girl in through the door. "Hold her. Force her to watch."

The elf holding Merry nodded and slowly lowered her to the floor. Kicking her once in the ribs, he bent over her and whispered terrible things in her ear until she woke with a start.

"Up," the ellon commanded quietly, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her to her feet. She trembled and barely managed it, even though he held her tight against his marble chest. She was far too weak to even consider resistance.

Meanwhile, the other members of the special guard had chained Æthelflædd to what was commonly referred to as the "whipping wall". To her credit, she stood bravely and refused to be cowed, as Merry had only days previous.

Laughing and joking amongst themselves, the elves drew lots and debated on who would have the lucky job of torturing the girl. At last it was decided they all would.

Merry, still wandering between dreams and consciousness, leaned against her guard. Her eyes were bleary. Her breathing came in short, desperate gasps. Every 30 seconds or so, she fell back to sleep only to be brought back by a sharp pinch or poke or murmured curse from the elf. His eyes were cold, his aim deadly accurate, but still Merry was out of it more often than not and had no clear idea of what was happening.

"Shall we start out easy?" one of the guard members asked their captain, fingering his 'cat lovingly. "Break her in slowly."

"No," the captain replied, glancing lazily at Merry. So far her courageousness had kept Æthelflædd safe from whip and rack. "Fast and hard. I am sure you know what to do."

The ellon nodded.

Merry, finally aware of her surroundings, cried out, "NO!" But it was too late. The whip, drawn back, was already flying through the air towards Æthelflædd.

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**Author's Note: My apologies for shortness. Shall try to update more and soon. Hope you enjoyed it.**

**Authoressinhiding**


	21. Going Under

**Ames – Normally I love Pride & Prejudice, but not when it detracts from the mood of my stories.**

**Inwe – I'm with you 100 percent.**

**Chelsea - Thanks!**

**Krys - Yes, this story is perhaps the grimmest thing I've written... but I enjoy it nevertheless.**

**Disclaimer: I own everything there is to own in the world. Including Orlando Bloom. Eat your hearts out.**

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Wham! The whip hit the blonde girl, and she cried out.

"No!" Merry screamed again, fighting against her captor. "Stop it! Stop it! Leave her the ruddy heck alone! Let her go, you swine!"

Triwáth's eyes gleamed as the second stroke fell.

"Let her go!" The seventeen-year-old's shout nearly covered Æthelflædd's scream. "Let her go, you illegitimate sons of loose women! Leave her alone!"

A different elf drew back his 'cat and let fly. Æthelflædd howled in pain. Her flimsy, white clothing was ripped and stained with scarlet blood.

This was too much for Merry. She attacked her guard, biting and clawing until he choked her into submission.

"Let her free," the girl whispered, eyes brimming with angry tears she could not shed. "For G-d's sake, stop it. Let her go."

But they didn't. Stroke after stroke fell upon Æthelflædd's once lily-fair back. Her cries became whimpers and then at last silence. She was unconscious. Nodding smugly, Triwáth directed for his men to cut her down.

"Take her to the cell," he ordered, not even sparing her a glance. "Do not bandage her wounds."

Merry looked at him, aghast. A hot and unyielding hatred blossomed in her heart. A thousand words sprang to minds, words she could not, would not say.

"How do you feel about your handiwork?" the elf captain asked her, smirking as he did so.

Still panting from her escapade moments before, Merry spat in his face and muttered something horrible about his mother in Khudzûl

_Thank you, Gimli, _she thought, seeing the look of shock and annoyance on his face. _Thank you for those hours on the way to Mordor. Thanks for teaching me stoicism better than any elf. Thanks for the laughter. The friendship. Do you know of Legolas's death? I wonder if you miss him as much as I do._

Triwáth slapped her across the face. Her head snapped to one side, and the mark of his hand was imprinted on her cheek.

"You will not speak to me that way, you little abomination," he hissed.

"Yes. I. Will." Lightning fast, Merry snapped her knee up and got him in the groin. She'd always wondered if it hurt elves as much as it did humans. Her answer came as he gasped and his eyes began to water. The elf holding Merry cuffed her, hard.

"Hannon le, Umion," the elf captain murmured once he had recovered. "You forgot your place," he spat at Merry.

"It's right here, between you and Jack… though both Jack and Jamesy are better than you and this idiot," she remarked thoughtfully, the elf's accidental quoting of Pirates drawing forth some character at last. Then an unwelcome thought came. _Legolas liked Pirates. He laughed at that line. _The tears began to fall once more. "Legolas. Legolas. Legolas," the girl mumbled softly, speaking slowly as if to savor the name.

Laughing, Triwáth stepped away from her, believing she had been broken again. "Take her to the cell, Umion. Oh, and by the way, Naeriel, your little blond friend – the boy with you and Legolas for all those days – well, it so happens that he died in the attack, along with Legolas Thranduilion. Eaten alive by orcs, the story is."

Merry cried harder, but still not a sound escaped her lips. She was too controlled for that. She would not give them further satisfaction by letting them know they had won. "So?" she said bravely, wishing she could curl up and die. "What of it? He was just a boy, after all."

The elf did not look as if he believed her. He studied her for a while before telling Umion to go ahead and chain her in the cell again.

Merry did not protest as she was dragged along the halls again. Her mind was numb; her thoughts lost in an onrush of grief that threatened to drown her. It felt as if she was dying from the inside out. First Legolas, now Jack, who next would be taken from her? The twins? Aragorn? Bill the Pony? (She had met him once and been very impressed with his manners.) She could do nothing to stop them. For what was perhaps the first time, she felt fully the extent of her helplessness. There was nothing she could do, and even if there was, how could she do it? How could she live on in a world without Legolas or Jack? How could she be brave when her heart was broken? Perhaps she should just give up. Perhaps she should just die. Being a fighter, however, Merry found both ideas distasteful and impossible. She refused to do either, unless all hope had been abandoned, and she was not quite there yet.

The elf shoved Merry into the cell. Already unsteady on her feet, the girl tripped and fell. She hit the floor with a thud and did not get up. With a snort of disgust, Umion once again took her by the wrists. This time, he dragged her over to the corner where her manacle lay and fastened it about her wrist. He was not gentle. Merry looked up at him, eyes reddened and puffy, her sight blurry. He kicked her once more in the ribs, and with a muttered "tithen deloswen" left the cell.

Immediately after his departure, Æthelflædd sat up. She had been lying prostrate on her pallet, but now the blonde turned on Merry with a vengeance.

"Traitor!" she hissed, glaring at her cellmate with unexpected passion. "This is all your fault!"

"No."

"Yes, you stupid dog! You betrayed me. I thought you were my friend, and you betrayed me."

"How?" Merry couldn't manage more than one word at a time.

"You let them do this to me!" The other girl gestured angrily at her bruised and bloody back. "You didn't stop them! You cruel, selfish girl! I thought you had at least _some _human decency." She glared even harder, if that were possible. "Apparently, I was wrong."

"No." Merry felt trapped, unable to say more than one syllable while her mind screamed its indignation. _How can she think this of me?_

"Oh, yes," Æthelflædd continued, thoroughly caught up in her anger and hate. "I don't know why I didn't see it before."

_Because it wasn't there and has never been there, you idiot. _But all Merry could say was, "No."

"You're always with them, you filthy little…" The blond girl proceeded to call the seventeen-year-old every bad name in the book – and a good deal more besides.

_You liar! You arrogant little liar. I could do nothing to help you – a blind dwarf could see that. And I would have helped you if I could have –surely you know that._

"You're a traitor, and you deserve to die here," Æthelflædd spat, giving Merry another death glare.

"No!" the flautist denied the accusations as best she could. Inside, however, a little voice asked, _But what if there was something we could have done? What if it really is our fault? _Merry refused to think about these questions. She was afraid of the answers.

* * *

A pattern developed over the next day or so. The special guard would torture Æthelflædd until she could bear it no longer as frequently as possible and then turn their attentions to Merry. The torments envisioned for her, however, were more subtle. They forced her to cut herself and took to carving initials in her skin. Very lightly, mind, but still deep enough for the wounds to flame and get infected.

Merry's speech, already halting, disintegrated into "no" and whimpers of pain or fear. She huddled in a corner, whimpering softly to herself all the while. The girl thought in panicked Gollum/Smeagol conversations and stopped eating. Æthelflædd ignored her except to call her "traitor" or curse at her. The old Merry would not have taken this for a moment, but this new quiet, pained creature did not so much as complain.

It was during one of the flautist's less lucid periods that Pilimór came to inspect her. Cold as a winter's night, he stepped over the bowls of abandoned food and water and went to the unresponsive Merry. She was staring at her filthy knees, crying freely and making no noise.

"Come, Naeriel." The elf reached out a hand and stroked her cheek gently.

Eyes narrowed to a point of inhumanity, Merry whipped her head around and bit him. Unlike his captain and soldiers, Pilimór did not curse her or hit her. Instead, he pushed her away slightly before resuming his stroking – this time on her hair. The teenager shivered and jerked away, snarling as she did so.

_Do not come near us, cruel one. We shall eats you._

Pilimór withdrew, sensing he had pushed her to her limits. "You know you friend Legolas, is dead," he announced calmly, watching her carefully for any signs of emotion. The tears flowed faster, but still she made no noise. "To avenge him, and you, and that little boy you liked, it seems that Éomer of Rohan and Elessar of Gondor are trying to find our stronghold."

His words meant nothing to Merry. Legolas was dead, had been dead for weeks now. Her life could not continue on as it had without him.

"They will fail, of course, and die pointlessly or return, defeated, to their smelly houses. They cannot hope to beat us."

"Éomer will," Æthelflædd said bravely. "He will defeat you, our fearless golden king."

_Not fearless. Courageous. Noble. Loving. Kind. Protector._

"Oh, is that so, little golden-hair?" In a few quick strides, Pilimór crossed over to Æthelflædd and teased her braids, a cruel light in his eyes. "Because I tell you he shall _die!_ Just as one of you will die today. Captain," he gestured to Triwáth, "bring them. Bind their hands."

As Merry was unable to stand, she was once again carried. The elves, following Pilimór, led them up the long flights of steps to the clearing outside. It had been ages since either girl saw the sun, and the sight of the mallyrn brought life to even Merry's battered soul.

_Home. Light. Freedom._

"Come," the elf lord ordered. "I shall bear Naeriel. The rest of you, once again, follow me." He took Merry from her guard and led the way through the forest to a deep, cold river. After being set down, the girl looked at her surroundings. The Silverlode, this river had been called once by Elladan and Elrohir on their journey from Lorien back to Rivendell. Those had been happier times. Merry had loved the river then, but now, sick and beaten, bruised and bound, its noise represented only that which she could no longer attain. It was a hateful sound, and she cried to hear it.

"Treasure this sight, Naeriel. It is your last chance to see daylight again. Remember it, Golden-hair."

_Why here? What's going on?_

Thought she knew it was useless, Æthelflædd struggled against her bonds. "What are you doing?" she spat, giving Pilimór the same death glare she had been using on Merry.

"You are witches, fey enchantresses and sorceresses. We must rid the world of your stain."

Merry managed a skeptical snort, indicating her disbelief and annoyance.

"I am no witch!" the blond girl exploded. "I am a normal girl."

"One of you is a witch," Pilimór insisted, the cruelty in his eyes increasing, "and she will die today. Now, who is it?"

"Not me," reiterated Æthelflædd. She looked about to panic.

Merry made another snorting noise. Her tears had stopped for a moment.

"Am I to take it that Naeriel is the witch, then?" Pilimór said quietly.

Sensing danger, Merry glanced up anxiously.

"Well, _I _am definitely not."

"No." The flautist struggled to break her speech impediment. "Not a witch. Arda doesn't have witches." Exhausted by the use of so many words, she closed her eyes, internally glad she had been able to make her point.

"Arda doesn't have witches, you say? You have talked long of them in your sleep."

_Unbloodylikely._

"Regardless of whether you are witches, you are still abominations and must be dealt with accordingly," he grinned evilly.

Æthelflædd and Merry both stiffened. They did not like the sound of this, though the latter was getting quite fed up with all the drama and pronouncements of DOOM. The other elves looked at Pilimór eagerly. They had not had a death in far too long, or so some of them thought.

"You will be drowned," the elf went on. The girls froze even more. "Let me clarify that." His folk looked too eager. Far too eager. What was wrong with them? Had they forgotten how to play their parts? It was not so long since he had given them such sport…was it? "You will be bound and thrown into the water. If you float, you are an abomination. If you sink, you are innocent."

"Either way, we die."

"Smart, little Golden-hair. Very smart. What have you to say, Naeriel?" He touched her cheek. She somehow managed to growl and roll her eyes at him simultaneously. The elf drew back, laughing. "Bind them fully."

As the other, lesser elves scurried to obey, Triwáth turned to his lord. "Sir, who first?"

"Naeriel. She cries already, you see." He whispered something in his own language to the captain, who nodded.

"And the other?"

"I think not."

"Very good, milord."

Strong hands picked her up. Merry struggled against the elf holding her, lashing out with an elbow and keening in a tone as painful to the ear as a high piccolo note. The ellon ignored this. He marched down to the Silverlode in quick, long strides. Without the slightest hesitation, he dumped her into the river.

_No!_ She was sinking. The last thing Merry saw before the water closed over her was Triwáth, smirking as he watched her drown.

* * *

**Author's Note: A decently long update to make up for my unforgivable absence. I beg your pardon.**


	22. Finally

**Disclaimer: I own everything… except the important things.**

* * *

_Think._Merry could only hold her breath for so long. If she didn't think, her life would be over before it had really begun. She'd never even gotten to kiss a boy. This unhappy recollection woke Merry from her indifference with a sharp jolt.

_Kick,_she told herself, flailing with her legs and twisting her body upwards in rhythm. _Kick. Swerve. Kick. Swerve. We got it!_

Although the water's deadly cold was getting to her, the girl was only a foot from the surface. _Kick. Swerve. Kick. Swerve. _She had made it.

Merry's head broke from the water. Gasping, she took down a huge lungful of air before kicking and swerving again, this time towards the shore. Upon reaching it, she somehow got her waterlogged, bound body up the bank, finally collapsing when her feet cleared the water.

"She is an abomination!" the elf lord cried as the elves broke from their groups to surround Merry. "Take her away. WE shall devise her punishment later. A more painful torment."

Triwáth nodded his approval from where he stood biding Ǽthelflǽdd.

"Traston, Úmion, take tithen deslowen over there back to her cell," he ordered. "Double chain her this time."

They set to with smiles. No one had said they need be kind. Grabbing the girl's wrists and ankles, they hoisted her onto their shoulders like a canoe ready for portage. They were going to have fun on the way home. It helped that Merry was unconscious.

She woke hours later all alone in her cell. Instead of the usual long chain, however, both her wrists _and_her ankles were shackled to the wall. She could move no more than two feet from it and could only sit on a small wooden bench propped up by stones. Someone had slumped her on it while she was passed out.

_Cold,_thought Merry with a shiver. Her clothes were damp and chilled, making her bad situation even worse. _Cold._

She felt a thousand years old, leaning limply against the cold stone. Fighting the river had taken the tuck out of her, and she could not see a way out of her present tribulation. Witches – and, apparently, abomination – had been tortured by other means than the water test she had just underwent. Merry swallowed deeply, considering the terrible things she might be subject to. Burning at the stake (hopefully not. Not even Merry could save herself from that), being forced to strip and then searched for any mole or pimple or bump that could be considered the Devil's mark (she had several scars, as does every active person), being flogged until she admitted her (nonexistent) guilt, as well as several others. Of course this was Middle-earth, not 17th century Salem Village, Massachusetts. Some would think there was no concrete difference between the two, and perhaps they would be right, but Merry saw a distinction. Perhaps it was because she had so enjoyed the one and been disgustedly fascinated by the other.

In the midst of her reflections, the cell door banged open, and two men came in carrying Ǽthelflǽdd between them. She looked to be almost dead, head lolling to one side, mouth open, eyes shut. Worried and nervous, Merry watched through her hair as they chained the other girl in a manner similar to the way they had dealt with her. Ǽthelflǽdd did not move once during the time they were near her. Only after they had left the cell did the blond show nay signs of life.

As the door clanged shut, the sixteen-year-old lifted her head and began to take big, gasping breaths.

"Are you okay?" Merry managed to ask in a quiet voice, looking concerned.

"You aren't a traitor," Ǽthelflǽdd choked, shivering visibly.

Merry nodded. Of course she wasn't. "Why?" She watched Ǽthelflǽdd's chest rise and fall for a while before repeating her question. "Why?"

"They tried to kill you."

_No duh._ "Mmph."

"Can you even talk?"

_If I really wanted to…_ "Mmph."

"I'll fill you in," Ǽthelflǽdd sighed, "later. Now I'm…" But she was already asleep.

Merry nodded softly to herself. Within minutes, she too was asleep.

The next morning both girls were woken abruptly by Triwáth.

"Time to wake, sleepyheads!" he crowed, the smile on his face as cruel as every. "Time for your trial."

_Trial? Oh, dear. Not good! Not good!_

"What trial?" Ǽthelflǽdd had managed to pull herself together. She glared out at him through one eye, the other still closed.

"Your unnecessary trial, after which we shall punish the both of you for being abominations."

_So we finally get to die now? _Merry's little voice said wryly, sticking its mental tongue out. _Excuse me if I don't jump for joy._

"What is it exactly that you plan on doing to us?" Ǽthelflǽdd had spunk, no question about it.

"Death," Triwáth hissed. "Death by fire."

_Great. Just what we need. More fire._

Ǽthelflǽdd gasped. "You barbarian!" she spat, reaching out an arm to try and strike the elf captain. "You inhuman barbaric killer!"

Merry just eyed the two of them carefully, quietly trying to make up her mind as to what was the best course of action and when was the opportune moment. It was with terrible frustration that she realized there was nothing she could do. Thinking and speaking were becoming too hard, taking too much energy and emotion from her body and mind. So the girl said nothing and tried to do as little thinking as possible.

The ellon laughed in Ǽthelflǽdd's face. "Of course I am inhuman, you silly girl. I am an elf! And why should your life and the lives of those like you matter to me, eh?" His pale hand moved to caress her cheek, but the cruel light still shone in his eyes. Shuddering, the blond girl pulled back. Triwáth laughed again. "You are lower than the smallest insect in all of Arda. Why should anyone care for your feeble existence? You are nothing but dross, useful only when desired and not after. Wouldn't you agree, Naeriel?" He turned, smirking, to the other girl.

Glaring through her curtains of greasy hair, the seventeen-year-old snapped and bared her teeth. Her eyes narrowed, and she snorted at the immaculate elf before her.

"No?" Reaching a hand out towards, the elf captain paused for a moment and then pulled back. "No, perhaps not. You still foolishly believe in your own worth. You stupid little girl. Because of you, the son of the King of Mirkwood is dead. Because of you, she," he gestured at Ǽthelflǽdd, "almost died not once or twice but several times. Because of you, a poor innocent boy was lured to his death. You are worth nothing. The world will thank us when you are gone."

Tears began to pool in Merry's eyes, the hot, bitter tears of rage.

"When both of you are dead," Triwáth continued, not even trying to hide the cruel joy in his voice, "the world will be merrier for many a day. And now to make that happen. Guards," he snapped his fingers, and two other elves entered the cell. "Unchain them and bind their hands. Then follow me." He laughed as they set to his orders. "The fun is about to begin."

The girls were bound and taken to the large torture chamber where almost all the members of Mor Gurth were gathered. Eyes glittering, the Men and Elves watched eagerly as Merry and Ǽthelflǽdd were dragged in. Their captors held them firmly, ignoring the girls' trembling and fear. For perhaps five minutes they all stood there in silence.

Finally the door once again burst open, and a tall elf in a black, bloodstained robe swept in. It was Pilimór.

He stared at the prisoners with undeniable, insatiable hunger and then slowly produced an object from inside his robe. Smiles bloomed on his followers' faces as they recognized the artifact. IT was an ancient silver ceremonial knife, covered in so much blood below the hilt it gleamed black. Huddling together as much as possible, his two captives shivered and quaked as he turned his piercing, cold eyes upon them. There was no doubt in either girl's mind that they were going to die. There was no way out, no possibility of parley. They were caught, good and sure, and all hope must be abandoned.

Pilimór carefully stalked over to them, raising his dagger as he did so.

"Please, no!" Ǽthelflǽdd shrieked. "Please, I'll do anything. Anything!"

Her pleading was to no avail. The elf lord merely stopped in front of her, his dagger fully raised now. Fast as quicksilver it flew, slashing open her belly and cutting open major arteries on her arms and legs. The golden-haired girl crumpled to the floor, her warm lifeblood spilling out onto the cold stone.

Pilimór moved on to Merry. Struggling, she forced off her captor and stood brave and tall in front of him. A challenge gleamed in her violet eyes, one last defiant act before her life ended. She would not go out of this world like a dog of a helpless cottager. If she had to go, she would go bravely and without pleading.

He looked at her keenly for a moment, reaching out his dagger-free hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. "Upset?" the ellon taunted cruelly. "Going to miss your dead friend? Don't. You'll be joining her soon. Very soon, indeed. Or shall we wait? We can kill you quickly, like her," he nodded at Ǽthelflǽdd's fallen form, "or slowly. We can even stretch it out over weeks and years. What say you, my people?"

Some said quick, and others slow, and most could not decide. But all waited, hanging on Pilimór's every word, their need for pain a physical one at last.

"Slow, I think," their lord mused at last, stroking the blade of his knife fondly. "This dagger is poisoned, when freshly blooded, by the way. Did you know?" He watched her from the corners of his eyes. "One tiny cut is reputed to cause indescribable torment. I think two ought to do the trick."

Merry eyed the dagger with complete distaste as it came nearer and nearer her face. She longed to move, to knock it from his hand and take off running, but they would all be upon her the moment she did, and elves moved with inhuman speed. Suddenly Pilimór struck out at her with snakelike speed, making two slanting cuts along he cheekbones. Fire blossomed along the small wounds, driving Merry out of her head with the pain of it. The last thing she thought before everything went black was that this was "death by fire" indeed.

The ellon holding her pulled her back to consciousness half a minute later. Everyone in the room was laughing and complimenting Pilimór on a job well done. Trembling in pain, Merry let her captor haul her to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly, and her mouth was dry.

At that moment, the torture room door banged open once more, and a harassed-looking man hurtled in.

"My lord," he gasped, sucking in air. "The upper halls are being attacked! Éomer's army. They've slipped past our spies."

A ringing silence fell. It lasted for perhaps a minute before Pilimór turned and took charge.

"To arms! To the armory! You know the plans! Triwáth, gather a company of your finest and come with me." He paused in thought for a moment. "Traston, stay here with the captives. The rest of you, follow me."

Heads up, the Men and Elves eagerly poured out of the room. They laughed and joked with one another, sure of their impending victory. Merry's captor let her fall to the floor, gazing dispassionately as she writhed in agony.

"Watch her," he said as Traston came walking over, looking sulky. "She cannot go anyplace, but watch her still." As soon as Traston had taken over his job, the ellon rushed out of the room, intent on the battle ahead.

The fire blazing in Merry's skull had now spread to the rest of her body. Unable to keep still, she twitched and squirmed and shook for several minutes before finally and mercifully falling back into unconsciousness.

Angry and annoyed, Traston leaned against the wall and sulked. It wasn't fair that he was stuck guarding two dying girls, girls everyone in the stronghold wanted dead. One was unconscious, and the other was almost catatonic. His task was extraordinarily boring. Sighing, Traston looked about the torture room. He wondered if anyone would care if the prisoners did die. Probably not. The ellon grinned. He was going to have fun.

Something creaked outside the torture room, startling the elf from his evil plans. Slowly, he moved from the wall and crept over to the door.

"Who's there?" he hissed, pulling a small knife from his belt. "Reveal yourself!" The ellon slipped into the hallway.

"All right, laddie. I will, though you won't enjoy it," called a heavy brogue.

There came a thud, like that of wood hitting a skull, and Traston collapsed, knocked out.

"You didn't kill him!"

"We don't need to kill him, Elrohir. We just need to find Merry, and I bet she's in here."

Soft and quick as shadows, the sons of Elrond moved into the torture room, leaving their wooden club behind. Both held their swords tightly and carried daggers in their belts.

"Eru… no." Elrohir caught sight of Merry. Moaning softly, he rushed over to her and gathered the unconscious girl into his arms. Her breath was quick and shallow, and her head lolled limply against his shoulder.

Elladan avoided looking at merry, his eyes filled with tears. "Elrohir, look."

The elf moved quickly to Ǽthelflǽdd's side. She was lying on her face in the midst of a pool of blood.

"Illuvatar… Elladan, is she still alive?"

Turning her over gently, Elladan felt for a pulse. He choked at the sight of the blond girl's wounds. "Yes, but just barely." The ellon ripped strips from his cloak and used them to staunch the bleeding. "She won't make it if we move her."

"But we cannot stay here!"

"I know," Elladan sighed. "Let me think, little brother."

Elrohir nodded and cast his eyes about the room, shivering at the sight of all the torture implements. Suddenly he spotted Pilimór's dagger. Juggling Merry carefully between his arms, he reached out a hand to grab it.

"All right," Elladan said at length. He was still applying pressure to Ǽthelflǽdd's wounds. "I think these will hold if we're careful," he added, turning the rest of his cloak into bandages. "You ready?"

"Of course," Elrohir replied quickly, slipping the bloody dagger into his belt pouch.

"Then let us be gone." Elladan picked up Ǽthelflǽdd carefully, and the elves vanished from the room.


	23. Awake

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, but I pwn absolutely everything.**

Merry woke to darkness, completely numb except for the pains spastically shooting through her. She felt some sense of urgency to wake but could not focus long enough to realize why.

_Warm and fuzzy, _she thought slowly. _Warm and fuzzy._

It was a completely random thought, but she was strangely comforted by it. Then a voice spoke, and all her pain and confusion were forgotten.

"Eru above, she's awake! Gelireth, can you hear me? Open your eyes. You, boy, go fetch the others. Bring the twins and Legolas first."

Merry knew that voice, had heard it many a time on a long ride that she could no longer remember. That voice had in turns cajoled and encouraged, censured and protected, if only because he knew she needed him. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The voice's face swam fuzzily before her, and a name sprang to mind.

"Estel," she croaked through parched lips. "Aragorn."

The king's gentle face broke into a smile. "You'll make it yet, girl. It is good to see you awake."

"Ah-las?" the girl slurred. Everything was going fuzzy – well, fuzzier – and all she wanted was sleep, now she knew she was safe. She had too many questions to ask, and she couldn't think through them all, anyway.

"You've had athelas," Aragorn murmured, watching her slip into unconsciousness again. "Sleep, little one. Sleep and be healed."

* * *

Days passed, leaving her only flashes of memory, moments of lucidity. She slept most of the time, wandering through dreams in places she'd never trod as well as those she knew all too well. She voyaged across many seas, walked the sordid halls of her high school, and sat, laughing, in the Hall of Fire at Rivendell. Never once did she revisit her cell or the tortures that had taken place during her time there. Her subconscious seemed intent on rebuilding, reaffirming, and reassuring.

When she was awake, all Merry could recall after was being fed by someone and Aragorn standing over her. She never recognized anyone else – nor did she want to. Truth be told, Merry was afraid of seeing the twins again and having to discuss Legolas's and Jack's deaths. She thought Aragorn mentioned Legolas as if he were alive, but she wasn't sure if this were a true memory or just a dream, as the latter happened so often and were so like the former. So she kept her questions locked away in a hidden part of her mind until she was ready to face them. It was easier that way.

Meanwhile, Legolas and the sons of Elrond were doing all they could not to panic. Elladan busied himself healing Æthelflædd, a quite a tricky business it was, too. She hovered on the edge of death, and the elf had to exercise all his skill to keep her clinging to life. He often called on Elrohir or one of the army healers for help and was beginning to look like a wraith – though no one dare say so to his face.

Legolas huddled nervously next to the door of Merry's room, sometimes as an elf but more often as a wolf. Whenever an opportunity presented itself, he slipped through the door and curled up on the bed, laying his head mournfully on his paws. Aragorn, who had banned the overwrought elf from the sick room, just sighed and let him be. It wouldn't hurt Merry to be kept warm, and sleep would do Legolas a world of good. Besides, it kept the elf out of his hair for a few hours.

Elrohir helped Elladan or one of the army healers. He took long walks and checked on Merry whenever Aragorn would let him. The ellon would sit by her bed for hours at a time, staring blankly at her drawn face. He wasn't even eating regularly, and that made Elladan nervous. Try as he might to force-feed him, his younger brother refused to cooperate or obey.

When Merry finally came back to full awareness again, she could feel the sour-sweetness in her mouth that usually came after she ate too much candy and then neglected to brush her teeth. Disgusted by it, the teenager attempted to sit up. Someone's hand reached out to help her, and eyes still closed, she took it.

"Water," Merry murmured, leaning back against the pillows she hadn't known were there with quiet ease. "Water."

A glass was pressed gently into her hand, and raising it to her lips, she drank.

"Thank you, Estel."

"I am not Estel."

Her heart jumped into her throat. Waves of fear and anticipation overwhelmed her.

"Who are you?" she whispered, voice trembling.

"Open your eyes."

Tentatively, first one eyelid and then the other came up. Merry gasped.

"Am I dead?" she wondered.

"No, of course not."

"Then why are you here?" She paused for a moment, and when she went on, her voice was full of suspicion and dread. "You've come to herald my death, haven't you? You're here to take me on."

"No, I haven't."

"But I… I know you aren't alive. You're a dream!" she howled, tears pooling in her eyes. "That's all you'll ever be! You're just a stupid dream!"

"Merry." Those strong arms enfolding her, the angular face, the familiar smell of horses and glue and firs, all these prompted her to believe him, to trust him. But she knew he was dead, and to think or hope he wasn't was to break her own heart again. "Merry, it's me."

"How do I know it is? You touch me, but I know you're dead, so you can't real."

"Porque yo no conta mentiras a ti."

"Ciento o falso?"

"Ciento."

"¿Vives?"

"Claro que sí."

"Porque yo, er…."

"Why did you teach me Spanish?"

"Yeah… let go."

Legolas released her from the bone-crunching hug slowly. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

Merry couldn't quite believe what was happening. A mere ten minutes ago, she had been as fully convinced of Legolas's death as she was of her own name, but now he was alive and, well, behaving like a puppy, all energetic and hyper, which was somewhat scary. Legolas was not a normally hyper person.

"So you're alive."

"Yes." He was somewhat calmer now, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"How long've I been out?"

"Two or three weeks." The elf waved an airy hand. "Aragorn had to cure you of that poison, and then you just slept all the time."

"Mmm." Casting her eyes about the room, Merry realized she didn't know it. "Um, where are we?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Legolas was getting hyper and fidgety again. It was all Merry could do not to yell, "Stop!" "I'll have to ask…"

"You are in Isengard," a silky voice informed them.

"It is two in the afternoon," added another voice, so alike to the first that Merry could only just tell them apart.

"And it is time you were up," Elladan and Elrohir finished together, entering completely and shutting the door behind them.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but a short update is better than none at all, right? I shall do my best to give you another (and longer) one within the week.**

**Your Devoted AiH**


	24. Pasties and Twits

**Disclaimer: I own everything not owned by someone richer than I.**

* * *

Merry looked from one brother to the other as they came nearer. She could see worry lines surrounding their eyes and exhaustion in their every movement.

"Boys, boys," she said lightly, waving an airy hand, "come here."

They approached and took a seat on either side of Legolas.

"I'm glad you have awoken," murmured Elladan, watching her from the corner of his eye.

The girl leaned back against her pillows and watched him back. "As am I, Elrondion," she replied softly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Both brothers nodded. Legolas, after looking up upon their entry, had been gazing out the window. His face was relaxed, but no visible emotions could be seen upon it. The elf had slipped behind his favorite mask again, and they all knew to leave him be until he came out.

"So." Merry let the word hang, her eyes flicking from Elrohir to Elladan and back to Elrohir. "How is it I'm still alive?" she asked quietly. "I thought I was dead – doomed at the very least."

"Estel," Elrohir answered simply. "I found a dagger. The girl said they'd cut you with it, and Estel somehow managed to heal you. He has a great gift, my foster brother."

Merry nodded slowly. "That sounds right. How is Æthelflædd, by the way?"

"She'll live," sighed Elladan, massaging his temples. "Your friend Jack is with her now. They have developed quite a strong rapport in a short time." He glanced apprehensively in Merry's direction. "Her hardly ever leave her side."

Elrohir snorted. "The little twit's fallen in love… or he thinks he has."

"Besotted or no, the 'little twit' is Merry's friend." Legolas had returned from his daydream.

"It's all right, Thranduilion." The seventeen-year-old put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't mind Elrohir calling him a twit. Honest. I've done it myself often enough." _But only mentally, _she added silently.

All three ellyn had to chuckle at this. Merry smiled at her friends, and as she did so, some of the lines about her face smoothed and her eyes softened.

"You see, Legolas," Elrohir laughed, grinning, "she agrees with me. He _is _a twit."

"I didn't say he was!" Merry rushed to her friend's defense. "I said you could call him one. I didn't say he _was _one."

"Ah, but you implied it," Elladan teased, joining the game.

"That she did." Legolas too had jumped ship.

"Mellyn, mellyn." Merry put up her hands. "I did not mean that Jack was a twit. I did not say it, and if I implied it, I did not mean to."

"Do you like him?" Elladan asked suddenly, a light in his eye that Merry did not at _all _like.

"Do you love him?" Elrohir queried, more seriously.

Alone of the three, Legolas did not pose a question. He watched his friend carefully, waiting for her answer.

Merry closed her eyes and thought. "I do not have a crush on Jack Shetland. I'm not infatuated with him," she said at last. "Not anymore," the girl added, seeing the look on Legolas's face. "Torture is useful for abolishing petty obsessions if nothing else" – Realizing what she had just said, the flautist looked horrorstruck. "Oh, no. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no."

The girl huddled into a ball at the head of the bed. The elves rose automatically and hurried to her side just as she began to tremble. Tears slid down the girl's cheeks, and she blinked furiously to dispel them. Memories of everything she had been trying so hard to forget came flooding back. Pilímor with his knife, the special guard and their 'cats, Æthelflædd and her disbelieving scorn. As Merry started to whimper, Legolas gathered her into his arms and held her to him, stroking her hair gently.

The twins stood back and watched, somehow sensing that his was a private moment. Merry gave into her fear and just cried, face buried against the elf's chest. Legolas looked sad and somewhat confused, but he held her for a long while until her tears passed. Elladan and Elrohir went out and returned with a meal and a pitcher of cold water.

"Merry, are you all right?" Legolas asked kindly, releasing her from his embrace.

Eyes red and swollen, Merry nodded and sat on the bed weakly. Instantly Elrohir was at her elbow with a cold, wet rag. She took it and mopped her face. The shaking had stopped.

"I'm sorry, boys," she mumbled, wiping her eyes with the rag. "I didn't mean to… to… to go all drippy on you." She laughed softly. "What a mess you must think me."

"It's fine," Legolas assured the girl, taking a seat beside her. "You've been through horrors _I _don't want to imagine. You have a right to cry."

Elladan decided to take charge of things and bring back their happy mood. He quickly sat down on the floor and held up the tray heaped with food.

"What'll it be, milady?" the elf asked merrily. "A pasty? The cooks recommend them, say they're delicious. Or we have some sausage and cheese, bit strong that, I must tell you. And I believe they sent up some pastries as well, with clotted cream and jam. Doesn't that make your mouth water?"

Merry grinned as Elrohir plopped down on her other side.

"Do you ever want to kick him in the pants?" she whispered in his ear.

"All the time," he murmured back.

"You should have seen him when Estel got attacked by a porcupine," Legolas hissed to Merry. "It was the most amusing thing I have ever witnessed. I recall Lord Elrond unable to stand for laughter as Estel – no more than a stripling at that time – chased Elladan all about the gardens, brandishing a long quill."

Elrohir smiled dreamily at the memory. "Yes, that was _most_ interesting. I don't think I ever loved Estel so much as that day. Never believed he had that in him. OH, thank you, gwador." He winked at Merry cheekily as he took a pasty off the tray.

Merry chuckled and followed suit, giving Elladan a sympathetic look. Glowering, he took a pasty of his own and set the tray on the floor.

"Oy!" Legolas nudged the dark-haired elf with a foot. "What about me?"

"You reminded Elrohir of the porcupine incident," Elladan retorted sourly. "You don't get lunch."

"Oh, Elladan, please be nice and let him eat," Merry begged.

"Fine." With surprising grace, the elf passed Legolas a pasty. "Happy now?"

"Yes," the other three answered, grinning.

For a while they ate in silence, until Merry posed a question.

"How did you find me?"

"Éomer," Legolas replied automatically, staring out the window once more. "He helped us – used his armies. Elessar came once he received our message."

"We came sooner," Elrohir cut in. "We came, and once in the fences of Lothlorien, the three of us set to tracking the members of Mor Gurth in order to find their headquarters. Legolas was part of the frontal assault."

"I did not like that," the wood elf interrupted. "But Éomer and Elessar persuaded me to ride with them as the members of Mor Gurth knew my face."

"So Elrohir and I snuck in while the fighting was hot, and somehow we managed to reach you," Elladan said ponderously. "Quite easy, really. The lower levels were mostly empty."

"And then?"

"And then," Legolas picked the story back up, "the combined forces of Rohan and Gondor exterminated the remnants of Mor Gurth. We rode with all haste to Isengard once Estel had Æthelflædd and yourself stabilized. And here we have been while you recovered, in one of the apartments in the cliff."

"Ah."

Throughout the rest of the meal, they talked and joked of lighter things. When someone came in to check on Merry an hour later, they found all four friends curled up together on the bed, sleeping soundly.

* * *

**Author's Note: I know, I know, another short chapter. I am going to try and give you a longer one sometime this weekend or next week. I seriously sprained my ankle before going to a concert yesterday, so now it's all swollen up. But Hawk Nelson was so totally worth it.! Jason and Dan are amazing, and the band rocks my world!! They are my "friend like that". As are my beloved readers.**

**AiH**


	25. Out of Place Behavior

**Dsiclaimer: I own absolutely nothing beyond my own ideas and evil whims**

**A/N: I fervently apologize and plead on my knees for my readers' forgiveness. I got a little busy, life got a little worrisome, and I abandoned you. A thousand pardons.**

* * *

Aragorn tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door silently behind him

Aragorn tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door silently behind him. With a jerk of his head, he signaled to Éomer, and the two men walked down the passageway.

"They're asleep," he informed the blond king, stepping into the kitchen.

"And about time," his friend replied, looking relieved. "Will she… will Merry be all right?"

Aragorn gazed at him searchingly, but Éomer was bending over a beer barrel, filling his tankard, and his bright hair hid his face.

"I believe so," he said at length, accepting his own mug. Thinking, he took a sip. "Physically, yes. Mentally and emotionally… Valar, I hope so."

"And Æthelflædd?"

The king nodded. "She is on the road to health but I cannot promise a full return to how she was before… she'll always have those scars, you know."

"I know," Éomer sighed, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark. "But…" he sighed again and drank deeply from his mug.

"You'll not find what you're looking for there," Aragorn murmured as Éomer drank again.

"And what am I looking for?" inquired the other man archly.

"You want to forget what happened to your realm and the girls that died."

"I failed."

"Éomer, come now." Aragorn took his friend by the shoulders. "It isn't your fault. This could have happened to anyone – to Dale or Gondor or even the wood elves in Eryn Lasgalen. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this."

"I know, I know." He sighed, deep and sad. "But I still feel guilty. How could I have let my people down? Do not forget, Elessar, I saw both girls when the sons of Elrond brought them out. I saw Elladan's blood-stained cloak, Meredith's limp form. And I can never forget, my friend. Never." The man's hands clenched and unclenched convulsively. His face became a mask of anger and sorrow with his cold blue eyes peering out.

"Mor Gurth is disbanded, its army exterminated," Aragorn soothed. "They have been repaid for their deeds. Will you not be at peace?"

"I will never be at peace, my lord Aragorn. Not until I feel as if I can. Not until I can hold myself blameless."

They stood in silence for a long while, drinking slowly. Aragorn held his mug loosely in one hand, watching the other man. Éomer's Adam's apple bobbed visibly as the beer slid down his throat. His eyes were focused on the mug before him, and he seemed unaware of the king's scrutiny.

At last Éomer put his drink down and broke the silence. "Forgive me, Aragorn. I was … upset. I forgot myself."

"Don't think on it," Aragorn smiled. "You aren't the only one who's been on edge lately. It has been terrible, waiting for the two girls to recover. You should go get some rest. I believe I will go visit the other invalid."

"I will accompany you. I believe you frighten my subject too much," he teased.

The former Ranger thought for a moment. "I wouldn't be half-surprised if you were right," he said ponderously. Then he shuddered. "It never is fair, being king."

"I _am _a king," Éomer reminded him dryly, pouring himself another mug of beer.

"Yes, well, she isn't in awe of you… None of your people are, really."

"I'm less distant than you, Aragorn. You are higher than your folk, and they know it. Besides," Éomer winked, "you have a way with women."

Aragorn chose that moment to do something not at all regal. With a smirk, he snatched his friend's drink and upended its contents all over him. Éomer had not been quite so furious since the mumak incident.

* * *

"Jack?"

"Yes, 'Flædd?" The teenager rose from his chair and moved to sit on her bed. He took one of her thin, cold hands in his own warm ones.

"Thank you for sitting with me," the girl said feebly. She batted her eyes winsomely before staring up at him with her deep azure gaze. "I really feel like you understand me."

Jack smiled down at her. He thought her so beautiful, so helpless. He wanted to protect her and take care of her.

"Do you love me, Jack?" Æthelflædd asked him, reaching out her other hand to stroke his hair. "Would you be willing to stay with me here in Rohan or take me with you to your home?"

Jack stared into her face for a long while, thinking. _Did _he love Æthelflædd? He liked her a great deal, but did it amount to love? And oughtn't he take some time about deciding? The senior felt trapped, caught between two feelings – loyalty to Merry and his increased liking for Æthelflædd.

"Jack?" Her pale, pink face was set in a pretty pout.

"I love you, Æthelflædd," the boy said huskily and with sudden passion, and leaning down, he kissed her full on the mouth.

* * *

Merry woke to find the great grey wolf once gain curled up on her legs, head resting lightly on folded paws. Elladan and Elrohir lay on either side of her, looking very much like open-eyed mummies. With a soft smile, the girl pushed herself up against the pillows. She grunted with effort as she lifted the wolf up a bit long enough to pull her legs out. Reaching across Elrohir's sleeping form, Merry lifted a book from off the bedside table. She'd noticed it a while earlier.

Quietly opening the cover so as not to disturb her slumbering friends, she glanced at the title page and began to read. It was a copy of the _Leithian_, rendered in Common and written in large, flowing script. The flautist dove into it with all the eagerness of a practiced reader with a new installment of their preferred series.

When her friends at last awoke and sat up, she was reading still, near the end of the book now. Merry read as if by reading fast and furious she could bring herself back to how she used to be. The girl knew from experience about reading herself into oblivion, and was trying to go about it as speedily as might be.

"Give me that." Elladan snatched the book from her hands. "I can tell it better.

"Your recitation skills lack finesse," Elrohir contended haughtily, stealing the book in turn. "You'll send Gelireth to sleep."

"Younger brother…" Elladan growled, fury in his eyes. "Give. Me. That. Book."

"No. You'll bore Gelireth to death."

Merry opened her mouth to say that an epic poem never bored her, unless she couldn't get the meter, and that they oughtn't discuss her as if she weren't there, but the wolf caught her eye, and she leaned back to watch the fight, grinning in spite of herself.

* * *

By the time Aragorn made his way to the sickroom, Jack had been gone half an hour. Æthelflædd was humming softly when he entered the room. Surprised, she ceased upon seeing the king, and fell into silence.

"How are you, milady?" Aragorn asked quietly, mentally savoring an image of Éomer's face once he'd realized he was drenched in beer. It was not a sight he would soon forget.

The girl coughed weakly, "Not too badly, my lord." She lowered her eyes demurely to the covers, then glanced up at him beneath her long lashes.

The king ignored this, or perhaps he failed to notice it entirely. Female behavior was not his forte. "I am glad to hear that."

"Are you?" Her voice was just the slightest bit flirtatious.

Aragorn realized this and wished he had brought Éomer with him.

_Actually, _the man thought wryly, _I would welcome even Wormtongue at this point. This girl is not at all as harmless as she seems. Would that Arwen were here!_

But she could not be there always to protect him from the wiles of women, and so he had best learn to avoid situations where he was subject to them (an impossible thing, considering his kingship) or muster up his will and deal with the unpleasantness.

"Of course," he said gruffly, realizing that some reply was needed. In his heart of hearts, he wanted to say something low, something cruel and cutting, but the part of him that _was _Aragorn would not allow him to do so. It would not do to insult one of Éomer's subjects, especially in the current situation.

"How long will it be until I can rise, my lord Aragorn?" Æthelflædd asked coquettishly.

Aragorn ignored her tone and forced himself to respond as he would to any other patient. "A few days to a week," he replied curtly. "Elladan, my brother, would know."

"Would you ask him for me?" The teenage girl wound a pale curl about her finger. "Please?"

"I will see what I can do." His voice was overly cold and indifferent. Arwen would have winced to hear it, and his friends would have laughed until he relaxed and smiled.

"Thank you," she murmured, leaning back against her mound of cushions. "Jack is a sweet boy, is he not?"

A bit surprised by her choice of conversation topic, Aragorn proceeded with wary caution. "I suppose so. I am not very well acquainted with the young man, but Gelireth speaks quite highly of him." _According to Legolas, anyway, _he added silently.

"Yes." Æthelflædd's face contorted into a mask of some unidentifiable emotion at the mention of Merry, but she recovered he poise quickly and continued. "That is to say, I find his company _very _enjoyable. Where is he from, do you know?"

Aragorn winced inwardly. Throughout their stay in Isengard, he had been privileged with highly confidential information regarding Merry and her friend. Information that only he, Legolas, the twins, and Éomer now possessed. He knew he could not tell even the minor details to the girl on the bed, so did what all good children of Elrond of Rivendell do under pressure: lied through his teeth.

"I haven't the slightest notion," the king told her innocently, trying to look as convincing as possible.

"Oh, I thought, since you were a king, you would know. After all, you are one of Merry's particular friends."

_I doubt that. _"Merry and Jack are quite tight-lipped about their past."

"Yes. He did seem reticent earlier."

Making a show of looking out the window, Aragorn turned back to Æthelflædd. "I am so sorry, lady, but I have duties to attend to. I hope you do not mind terribly."

"I will manage to survive," she sniffed. "Good bye, my lord."

"Farewell."

Without another word, Aragorn slipped out the door and into the passage. Now he could finally relax… but he had better check on Merry first. The king sighed and then began to walk along the hall towards Merry's room. Upon reaching the door, he paused, a slight smile playing about the corners of his mouth as he listened to the noises coming from with in.

"Elladan, let go!"

"No, little brother, I think not."

"Let go!"

There came a crash, and someone shrieked, but whether in glee or terror the king could not tell.

"Hey, now!" This came from Elladan. "That wasn't yours to break… and now I'm wet. I will get you, little brother!"

"Ella" – Merry's voice was cut off by a soft growl from what must have been Legolas.

"Elladan, please think about this!"

Aragorn could picture his foster brothers very clearly. Elrohir would be backing away from Elladan, his hands up, palms out in an attempt to placate his older brother. Elladan would be advancing on the younger elf, his hand lingering on the hilt of his sword.

The king closed his eyes to savor the picture and then dropped his signet in front of the door before crouching low to eavesdrop. If anyone found him there, he would just say he'd accidentally dropped his ring and had bent down to retrieve it.

""Elladan, please!" Elrohir's voice was shrill and panicked. "Please, don't do this! Not in front of her."

Aragorn's eyes widened, and he leaned in closer to the door.

"Oh, I don't mind," Merry chuckled throatily, sounding as if she was enjoying Elrohir's discomfort, which she probably was, the king reflected.

"What's going on here?" hissed a voice from behind him. "The King of Gondor, listening at doors?"

Aragorn almost jumped, but he managed not to make any noticeable noise. Whirling, he glared at Éomer.

"Hush," he whispered so softly that Éomer could barely hear him. "My foster brothers are fighting, and I want to hear this."

"Please, Elladan! Merry, Legolas, please stop him! Please!" Elrohir's voice was hoarse with embarrassment and held-back tears. Whatever they were doing, Aragorn knew it was killing his pride to plead for mercy. They must be planning something truly horrid.

"No," Elladan could be heard saying. "No way out, Elrohir. You will pay for your impertinence this time."

Aragorn sighed. It was time, once again, to go save one of his friends from dire shame. Snatching his ring up, the man rose and gestured to Éomer. Then with infinite care, he turned the doorknob, and they sprang into the room.

Elrohir was pinned down to the bed, writhing in apparent agony. Elladan, still slightly damp, sat atop his younger brother, tickling him gleefully with a long feather. The elf screamed and begged for release, but his brother merely tickled more. Merry leaned against the wall on the other side of the bed. A large grey wolf sat at her feet. His mouth hung open, and his eyes glittered with laughter. The girl stroked his fur slowly, watching the goings on across the room with obvious interest.

"Stop this at once!" Aragorn strode across the room and pulled Elladan off his younger brother. "'Dan, behave yourself. 'Rohir, relax. It's over. Now what in all of Arda is going on here? How did this happen?"

Merry chucked her copy of the _Leithian_ at him. "That."

Aragorn stared at her in disbelief and then sank weakly into a chair. "Elrohir, Elladan," he sighed, massaging his temples, "start explaining."

* * *

**Author's Note: Once again, another apology for taking so long. I hope this chapter was of appropriate length to absolve your anger. I shall be back on the updating wagon very soon, as my classes are winding down, and there are but 17 days of drudgery (high school) left before scintillating summer vacation.**

**Ta,**

**Authoressinhiding**


	26. Playacting? Or Not?

**Ames - Go Ames, made drum major! Go Ames, made drum major! Woot!!**

**Inwe - I thought you'd enjoy that line. **

**Disclaimer: I own your life, your clean cute toe socks, and your converse. Everything else belongs to Orlando Bloom... (and he's giving it to me!)**

* * *

It took a while for the entire story to be told according to Aragorn's satisfaction, and once the twins had finished, the king massaged his temples. "Must you two always do this?" he asked in exasperation, giving them the Look.

"Yes," replied Elrohir frankly. "And we'll argue still."

"Unless you want to recite it, gwador," Elladan added. "We all know you can, and I don't believe Merry and Legolas have ever heard it."

"I haven't either," put in Éomer, "and I would enjoy it a good deal."

"How about it, Estel?" Legolas requested, teasing gently.

Aragorn held up his hands in defeat. "Very well, my friends, though I will be holding this against you."

"We know," they all chanted, laughing softly.

"Hush," the king directed. "If I am to tell the story, then you must be silent, understand?" No one said anything, and the former Ranger drew a long, deep breath.

"The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair

And in the glades a light was seen,

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinúviel was dancing there,

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering…"

By the time he finished, everyone was looking suitably impressed, even his foster brothers.

"A very nice recitation, that," commented Merry, eyes gleaming in appreciation. "Would I could do half so well."

Aragorn nodded in recognition of her comment.

"So, er, what say you to having dinner in here and telling stories, aye?" the girl suggested, enthused.

The others thought about this for a moment and then nodded.

"Venison and beer," Éomer called.

"Wine and bread," Legolas threw in his two cents.

"And pickles and cheese and apple juice!" Merry shouted.

"I don't know about the apple juice, but we'll see what there is to be had," Aragorn promised. "Come, Éomer! We shall fetch the victuals – young Jack and Æthelflædd, too, while we're at it."

Éomer laughed. "I shall have to come, my friend. Otherwise you will eat all the food, and there shall be no sup left for us."

Protesting this cruel judgment, the king followed his friend out the door.

Once they were gone, Legolas stretched out luxuriously on the bed, looking for all the world like a large cat in elf form.

"So, are we allowed to call the twit a twit?" Elrohir asked eagerly, a mischievous grin in his steely eyes.

"Do say yes," urged his older brother, smirking slightly. "It will make the evening so much more… interesting."

Merry shook her head in exasperation. "I can't let you do that, and you know it. It wouldn't be fair or polite or genteel or anything that makes us better than them." The girl swallowed. "Legolas, help me out here. Please?"

"That I cannot do, Gelireth," Legolas replied lazily, arching his back so he resembled a cat even more. "I refuse to interfere this time. If the mighty sons of Elrond wish to have sport with pubescent mortals, it is really none of my affair." The elf closed his green eyes slowly and appeared to fall asleep.

"You know what I think, Thranduilion?" Elladan stepped over towards the bed and boxed Legolas's ears until he opened an eye in anger.

"What is it, Elladan?" Legolas asked irritably.

"I think it would be quite entertaining if Merry pretended to be in love with you – and vice versa – all night long, just to see how the twit and his…"

"Twitterpation interest?" Merry suggested. "It means the person he likes," she added hastily, catching her friends' confused looks.

"Yes, that. Well, Merry and Legolas should pretend to be in love just to see how they will react. It would be extremely diverting – don't you agree?"

Elrohir thought over the plan for am moment and then nodded, but Merry and Legolas were not so sure. They looked at one another apprehensively, each full of their own doubts. The ellon did not look nearly as relaxed as before.

Merry was the first to voice her concerns. "Um, I don't know, 'Dan. I've never been in love before – I wouldn't know how to act."

"She's a child!" Legolas burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. "No self-respecting elf would fall in love with a child! It's just sick, Elladan. How could you suggest such a thing?"

The sons of Elrond's faces went from amusement to gravity in an instant. It was quite a valid point Legolas had, and one they could not overlook easily.

Merry considered getting angry but then dismissed the thought. The teenager felt disappointed that her friends still considered her a child, but she knew enough about their culture not to be too offended. With a sigh, Merry settled herself on the edge of the bed and waited patiently for the elves to stop exchanging significant looks.

"I am sorry I brought the idea up," Elladan murmured at last. "It was in bad taste, Legolas, Merry, and I apologize."

Rolling her eyes inwardly, Merry shrugged. "No skin off my back."

Legolas considered the apology for a moment, then nodded. "There is nothing to forgive, Elladan. Perhaps I overreacted."

Elrohir sniffed loudly. "The both of you overreacted, I think. Look: we know custom, and Estel and Merry know custom, I'm sure, and Éomer is rather quick on the uptake, but we could still drive the bloody twit up the wall."

This brought the laughter and merriment back, and Merry glanced questioningly at Legolas, though no one noticed.

"I suppose we could pretend," Legolas said after a long pause, thinking hard. "As long as it is fully understood that it _is _only pretend, mind."

"Of course," Merry agreed wholeheartedly. "Imagine what folk would say if it got out that I was dating a man old enough to be my ancestor. Good heavens!" She flashed Legolas a bright grin to show she was only joking.

"All right, then, Elladan, they've agreed." Elrohir turned to his brother expectantly. "I believe it's up to you to coach them, then. I shall just sit here and watch. This will be _most_ interesting." The elf sat cross-legged on the floor and looked around as if waiting for the show to begin.

"Er, Elrohir does have a point," Elladan admitted slowly, running a hand through his dark hair. "You two are going to have to act as if you're in love. Have either of you, er, ever been in love?"

"Um, no," replied the seventeen-year-old frankly.

Legolas, sitting beside Merry on the bed, looked somewhat abashed. "Once," he said quickly. "A long time ago."

Both Merry and Elrohir shot him inquisitive looks at this, but Elladan waved it aside. "All right," he continued, "so we really don't have much to work with, then, have we?"

"No, not really," Merry admitted openly.

"Hmm. So… First off, Legolas, pay attention to every little thing Merry says. Laugh at her jokes even when we all know they aren't even remotely funny."

"Hey!" the girl protested feebly.

Elladan ignored her. "Second," he continued, "Merry, stay as close to Legolas as you can. The same goes for you, too, Legolas. Hold hands with each other, embrace… the occasional kiss wouldn't hurt."

Elf and girl exchanged looks. "Um, 'Dan, I don't think I want to kiss Legolas. No offense, Legs, but… it'd be like kissing my brother."

"Then just kiss him on the cheek, all right?"

"But, Elladan!"

"No 'but's, Gelireth. You don't see Legolas complaining, do you?"

"That's because he's in too much shock to," Elrohir said dryly.

"Are you sure? Because I was under the impression these two liked each other."

Merry's cheeks flamed, and Legolas fixed his eyes intently on the floor. The tips of his ears were going red.

"Apparently I was wrong," the ellon added, knowing not to push them too far just yet. "Anyways, third, just remember how Estel and Arwen used to act around each other." Before he could say any more, however, the door swung open, and the other four mortals entered. Merry and Legolas glanced quickly at each other, the blush gone from their faces, and nodded. It was time to perform.

They only had seconds to act before their four friends were in the room. On impulse, Legolas wrapped an arm around Merry's waist and claimed her hand with his free one. The girl fought down the urge to elbow him and instead reclined against the elf, relaxing slightly.

"This had better work out," she hissed into his ear from the corner of her mouth.

"Don't worry, Gelireth. You are an actress. This is your stage. Go."

Aragorn and Éomer were the first through the door. The kings shot the four who had chosen to remain behind searching glances and then nodded as if in acceptance. Jack, one arm wrapped tenderly around Æthelflædd's waist, took a while longer to notice what was going on. When he saw the way Merry and Legolas were sitting together, however, the teenager's face flushed, and his eyes darkened in anger. If Æthelflædd saw the two actors, she chose to ignore them.

"Twit," Elrohir murmured upon seeing Jack, but only the other three conspirators heard him.

"So, what did you bring us, Estel?" asked Legolas eagerly, leaning in to give Merry a kiss on the cheek. Somehow he made it look like the most natural thing in the world.

Mortified, the senior gritted her teeth but managed a coy smile. "I hope it's something savory," she purred throatily. A part of her was scandalized at her own behavior, but she pushed it aside mercilessly. "I'm starving."

"We've got everything you sent for," Éomer declared, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the playacting couple. "Pastries, venison, beer, wine, pickles, bread, cheese… no apple juice, I fear," he added apologetically to Merry. "Though it would seem you found something to make up for that."

Merry blushed, looking pleased.

"So… er… Merry…" Jack's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Yes, Jack?" The flautist looked him up and down coolly, no emotion showing in her violet eyes. Unconsciously, she squeezed Legolas's hand tightly. The elf's eyes made an almost indiscernible flick from Merry to the blond boy and back to Merry again.

"Are you all right?" Jack asked nervously.

Merry found this such an insufficient response to all that had happened since they had parted that she did not say anything for quite a while. The silence that lasted while she thought caused the other teenagers to shift uncomfortably in their seats on the floor.

Finally, the girl spoke. "Thank you, Jack. I am perfectly fine. I am alive and with my friends. What more could a girl ask for?" Knowing she was taking dangerous chances, she turned her head and gave Legolas a kiss on _his_ cheek.

"I'm fine," Merry whispered so only he could hear. "Stop worrying about me."

"'Rohir's right," Elladan murmured. He was standing beside the two of them and so could over hear every word Merry said, no matter how softly she said it. "He is a twit."

Legolas managed to keep his face impassive, but Merry had to muffle her giggles by burying her face in his tunic.

"Well, we can't sit around talking all evening," commented Aragorn, sensing that it was best for all concerned if the attention were taken off Merry and Legolas. "Éomer, hand me one of those pasties. Word on the street is they're delicious."

Talk swung around to folktales of both Rohan and Gondor. The sons of Elrond kept exchanging looks with Merry and Legolas. Jack apparently decided to take his revenge openly, for he and Æthelflædd began to kiss both more eagerly and more frequently than the pretending couple. They couldn't keep their hands off each other.

After half an hour of this, the elf and girl gave up pretending to be lovers. They slid onto the floor beside the bed and traded jokes and anecdotes with their friends. The only concession to the role they gave was their hands, which continued to be clasped in Merry's lap. Éomer and Elrohir were whispering together in a corner, and Merry was sure she caught the word twit more than once. Their new-found alliance did not bode well, but the other were having too much fun swapping tales of their childhoods in Imladris and Mirkwood to notice, except for Jack and Æthelflædd, who were too busy snogging to pay attention to anything else.

By the time the friends ran out of food, drink, and talk, everyone was in quite a forgiving mood. Dropping Legolas's hand fro the first time all evening, Merry stood and rendered a spirited imitation of a drunken pirate. She stumbled around the room dizzily, blinking slowly and mumbling things like, "Nasty buggers… nicked all me gold," and "Oh, can ah 'ave more rum?" At last she pretended to swoon and collapsed on the floor, head in Legolas's lap.

"'Ello, luv," she crowed with a fake burp. "What day is it?" Merry then sprang to her feet and bowed, sweeping an imaginary plumed hat off her head and waving it around grandly.

"Are you sure you aren't really drunk, Merry?" simpered Æthelflædd, sounding concerned.

"Quite sure." The girl took her seat with dignity, giving Legolas he hand once more. "I haven't touched the beer – or the wine, for that matter. Aren't you proud of me?"

"Always," Jack said dryly before anyone else could comment. "I could never respect you if you were … morally lax." He shot Legolas a filthy look.

The elf took great care to ignore him, his eyes fixed on a point on the wall just above the window. It wouldn't do to get angry with the teenager, especially since it wasn't as if he and Merry were really in love.

_I like this_, the flautist thought relaxedly, watching as Éomer began to juggle the empty beer mugs. _I really like this._

She didn't know why, but holding Legolas's hand felt right. It was something she had wanted to do for a long while, though she had thought she'd forgotten it.

_Oh, no!_ Merry realized suddenly. _Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. I like Legolas… again. I thought I was over it! I _hoped _I was over it! And now it seems I wasn't at all over it. Over him. I _do_ like him._

_It will never happen, Mer,_ the voice in the back of her mind said much more softly than usual. _It will _never_ happen. This, this farce of a love affair, is the closest you are ever going to get to the real thing with him. Don't get your hopes up. Don't get _our_ hopes up. I cannot bear to be disappointed again._

_I know, _Merry thought sadly, wishing that, for once, her crushes would work out. _But I can't help it. I still like him… more than I can ever recall having liked any guy._

As if he could somehow sense her thoughts, the elf in question turned his head and met her eyes curiously. Legolas nodded his head in some strange sort of acknowledgement and then returned to the conversation. They were still holding hands.

Finally, Aragorn stood. "I hate to have to cut the fun short," he began slowly, holding up his hands in order to defend himself, "but it is high time the two invalids were in bed."

"I agree with you completely," Éomer rose from his place in the corner and gathered up the dirty crocks and dishes.

"Merry, let go of Legolas's hand," ordered Elladan sternly. "You only got up today. Æthelflædd, this goes for you as well. Separate yourself from Master Shetland, and I will escort you back to your room."

"I'll show Master Shetland the way to his," Elrohir said, too eager. His eyes glinted maliciously, and had Merry not been so preoccupied with her own inner issues, she might have said something, but as it were, the distracted girl did not comment.

"Very well, then, I concede," Legolas rose slowly and pulled Merry to her feet. "I suppose we must go to bed, then."

Scowling, Jack and Æthelflædd allowed themselves to be pried apart and led away by the twins. As he walked out the door, Elrohir turned and mouthed the word "twit" back to Legolas and Merry.

"Now, what was that all about?" Éomer asked curiously.

"Erm, well, Elladan had the bright idea for Legolas and I to pretend to be in love tonight," Merry admitted sheepishly.

"How ingenious," Aragorn commented dryly. "And you two decided to go along with it?"

Both Legolas and Merry looked at the floor. "Yes," the elf said at last.

"Well, I must say it was entertaining," the king of Rohan grinned. "I hadn't thought the twit would respond so… passionately, though."

Elf and girl stared down at the floor again.

Aragorn sighed. "Come, friend. Let us leave the lovebirds to say their goodnights."

With smirks on their faces, the two men bowed out and exited the room.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," Legolas observed after a short uncomfortable silence.

Merry blushed for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

"I'm sure they're all still out there listening," the elf continued, and he was quite right. "Let's really give the old biddies something to talk about, eh?"

A roguish twinkle in his eye, Legolas pulled Merry into a tight embrace and kissed her full on the mouth with gentle strength for several seconds. Then without another word, the elf turned on his heel and walked out the door.

* * *

**Author's Note: -raises eyebrows- Opinions?**


	27. Apologies

**Inwe – Mate, that is an excellent rule to have. Now you update!**

**Eavis – Threatening your authoress is not a good idea. It does not lead to updates. It does lead to kamikaze pirates attacking you. But I shall try to update frequently this summer.**

**Ames – Band teenagers especially think they can out-snog each other. The sad thing is that most of them actually can.**

**Disclaimer: Readers, meet Caspian. He will be doing our disclaimer today. ****Caspian: HELP ME!! ****AiH: Ehem. Disclaimer. ****Caspian: Oh. She doesn't own anything tangible or shiny. ****AiH: Hold on… I own you. You are tangible **_**and**_** shiny. ****Caspian: (**

* * *

Shell-shocked, Merry raised a hand to her mouth and stared after the elf for several minutes. At last she crossed the floor quickly, shut the door with one hand, and weakly sank onto the bed.

_Why does he have to do that? _Merry thought in exhaustion, pulling off her slippers slowly and dropped them on the floor. _Just when I think I know where I stand with him, the bloody elf has to throw me a curveball. _Sighing softly, the seventeen-year-old finished undressing and slipped in between the covers. _It's not as if I didn't enjoy it, _she told herself hastily. _I just don't think it was right, that._

_It wasn't, _replied the voice in her mind. _He shouldn't lead you on like that. Lead _us_ on like that._

_But I did like it, _Merry admitted quietly. _I liked it a good deal. And I want more, _she added, half-eager, half-embarrassed.

_Stop it! _shrieked the Voice angrily. _Just stop it, Meredith Lee. I refuse to face this… I won't. I just won't._

_Why? _Merry demanded, angry in her turn.

_Why not?  
_

_Because it will never be and never happen, _retorted her Voice. _And if you keep on telling yourself it will, then when he lets you down – it will happen inevitably – you will be heartbroken. Don't do that to us, Merry. _Please.

The girl had to stop and mull this over for a while. It was quite likely, she must admit, that falling in love with Legolas would only lead to trouble. But he _had_ kissed her all on his own. Frustrated and confused, Merry rolled over onto her stomach and, within a few moments, fell asleep.

* * *

"Legolas, what were you playing at, kissing Merry?" Elrohir hissed angrily. The two sons of Elrond had managed to corner their friend in his bedroom after escorting their charges to bed.

"Legolas!" he snapped again. "Answer the question."

"I felt like it," the wood elf replied coldly, shooting glares at the other two. "Why? Have a problem?"

"Yes, we have a problem!" Elrohir nearly shouted. "She is our friend. Yours, too. You cannot go about treating her like this."

"It was just a bit of fun, Elrondion. Eru! Lighten up."

Before Elrohir could reply, however, the door burst open.

"Stop messing with Merry, you #)#!" Jack hissed, crossing the room in a few quick strides and shoving Elrohir out of the way to glare at Legolas.

"What is with you lot?" Legolas demanded furiously, green cat's-eyes narrowing in loathing and anger. "For the last time, I am _not_ messing with Merry."

Jack backhanded the elf across the face, sending his face reeling to one side. "You liar!" he shrieked. "You'll never leave her alone, will you? You'll never let her be normal and virtuous. You just want to use her for your own filthy, selfish desires."

It took a will of adamant for Legolas to restrain himself, but somehow he managed it. The elf ignored the bleeding cut on his lip and motioned with one hand for his friends to stay out of this, noticing their fingers were twitching in anger. "Is that what you think of me?" he asked dangerously, green eyes narrowed into slits now. "Is that what you all think? Legolas of Mirkwood, the lecherous elf who takes advantage of infatuated children?" Legolas laughed mirthlessly. "Are you really so foolish as to believe such a thing?"

"Legolas," Elladan murmured. "Legolas. Relax."

His younger brother placed a calming hand on the other elf's forearm. "Legolas, please."

But the elf was too angry to relax or calm down. His eyes flickered with rage. "I. Am. Not. A. Womanizer," Legolas spat, trembling with fury. "I would never take advantage of Merry. She is a child and my friend. She trusts me. It is a mark of how little you have paid attention throughout long journey that you would believe so of me. None who know me would even consider the slightest thought of such a thing. And so I must beg you to leave my quarters forthwith. That means now," the elf added, his voice cruel and cold as steel. Without taking his eyes off the boy, he changed forms. The large wolf leapt onto the bed and settled himself austerely.

Taking their cues from the shape-shifting elf, Elladan and Elrohir grasped Jack firmly by the elbows and escorted him out the door. After slamming it behind him, they turned to face Legolas.

"Forgive me," Elrohir said softly. "I erred in accusing you of… of what I did," he finished lamely.

The wolf changed into Legolas. "It doesn't matter," he replied dolefully. "That's what they all think, isn't it? Oh… I can't believe I did that. What's gotten into me? I should never have agreed to your plan, Elladan. I should never have… led Merry on."

"Led her on?" Elladan said sharply. "Legolas…"

"I am under the impression that our little friend thinks herself in love with me."

"And, so believing, you kissed her tonight?" asked Elrohir incredulously.

"Yes." The wood elf ground the palms of his hands into his eyes with unwarranted vehemence. "What is wrong with me? I should have known better!"

"You like her," Elladan observed keenly, his voice not much above a whisper. "You like her, don't you?"

"I do not!" replied Legolas belligerently, glaring at his friends. "I do not like her. She is a child, Elladan, for the thousandth time."

"Then why did you kiss her?" pressed Elrohir.

"I don't know. I don't know. I'm Thranduil's impossible, impulsive son, remember?" His voice became soft and bitter. "I have no reasons. I do what I fell like, never in my father's favor." The elf stared miserably at the floor. "I never know why, Elrondiyn. I _never _know why."

"Actually, you have been a lot better these past years," commented Elladan softly. "Ever since we started… started to get to know you. Ever since… well, ever since Merry, I suppose."

Legolas nodded slowly, as if in defeat. "So there you have it. The impossible difficult son of Thranduil… tamed by a mortal child with no respect for anyone." He laughed painfully. "Sad, is it not/"

"Very," Elrohir muttered dryly.

His older brother, however, frowned as he thought. Silence reigned for several minutes, each ellon lost in his own mind. At last Elladan spoke. "So, Thranduilion… what are you going to do?"

"What is there to do?" Hopelessness had conquered the once-proud elf.

"You can start by making up your mind: do you like Merry or not?"

"Not," Legolas said decidedly. "Well, I do, but not enough. Mostly I just love her as a friend."

"Whoo… _that _makes everything easier," Elrohir sighed, standing up and running through some flexibility exercises, such as stretching his leg muscles and contorting himself into strange positions.

"All right," the older son of Elrond continued, ignoring his younger brother. Well, how are you going to tell her?"

"I shall get her alone tomorrow and explain," the elf said woodenly, examining his knees. "Perhaps as a wolf."

Elladan gripped his friend's shoulder tightly. "No, Legolas. You must face her as you are. Going in lupine's form will only hurt her and embarrass you."

"He's got a point, you know."

"Thank you, Elrohir." Legolas watched as the elf unwound himself from a pretzel. "Should I go tell her now?"

Quickly Elladan glanced at the clock on the wall. "Perhaps. Perhaps the sooner, the better. Do not encourage her any further, Legolas. She is not so strong as to be able to withstand having her heart broken more than once. Go now and do not look back."

With a nod, the wood elf forced himself to rise from the bed, shaking slightly. He marched firmly to the door, opened it, and slipped outside into the dark hallway.

* * *

"Legolas?" Merry murmured drowsily. She had woken upon hearing her door creak open and now looked off into the darkness, watching the slight form of her nighttime visitor sleepily.

"Merry… may I… may I come in?" The elf's voice sounded strained and upset.

"You're already in," the girl said with a soft laugh. "But come in. Sit down." She crawled from beneath the mussed covers and sat cross-legged at the foot of her bed. "Come, love. Sit and tell old Merry what's wrong." Though her voice was calm, Merry's heart raced. Why was he here in her room so late? Did he not know of her crush on him? Of how much she wanted him?

"Merry," Legolas copied her position on the other side of the bed. Tucking one leg under the other, he sighed and looked intently into her violet eyes. "Merry, I have great need to apologize to you."

"Legs?" The seventeen-year-old was uncertain and fearful. "Legs, what is it?"

"Gohedo nin," the elf whispered, gazing down and not meeting her eyes. "Gohedo nin, Gelireth."

"Of course I forgive you," she cried, glad he had used one of the few Sindarin phrases she knew. "Tell me what you have done."

"I have deceived you."

"How?" Merry asked curiously, beginning to feel things were becoming too melodramatic for her tastes. "How so? Pray, lord, bequeath thy nightmarish secret to a listening ear." Then again, she had always enjoyed a good play.

"I ought not have fooled you into thinking I loved you," Legolas mumbled with great dread.

"Thou dost not, fair lord?" The teenage clapped a hand to her breast with the air of a dying Juliet or pleading Hermione. "In truth thou dost not love me?"

"Merry, I beg of you, drop the player's air you have taken up and _listen_."

Obediently, the girl let her theatrics slide away.

"I should not have kissed you," he said miserably, still not looking at her.

"No, you shouldn't. But it was just a kiss." Merry shrugged, though she did not truly believe so and still felt somewhat hurt.

"No, Gelireth, do not lie to me. You know – and I know you know – it was more than that."

"I had my hopes," she murmured to her knees. "Would you have me speak plainly, friend?"

"I would," Legolas replied gravely, eyes locked on the coverlet he sat upon.

"Then I will say this: I love you, Legolas." Her voice was quiet, yet full of passion and warmth. "I have loved you since I was thirteen."

_I feared it was so, _thought the elf, but he said nothing yet, waiting for her to continue.

"And now… when I begin to love you all the more, after forgetting you for a short while, you unbidden do the very thing my heart cries out for. And then… and then you come to me in my room at night, the two of us in the dark alone, and say it was a mistake? That you erred in kissing the lovesick, tortured child? The girl whose heart broke when she thought you dead?" Merry's pale hands trembled even as she clasped them together in her lap. "A cruel jest you play, Legolas of the Nine Companions."

"Merry, I" –

"But you are not wholly to blame," she continued, ignoring the elf's interjection. "I ought not to dream of what I know I can't have. I shouldn't expect you to return my affections. Forgive me my presumptions."

"Ah, Merry," Legolas sighed, looking at her at last with his green, green cat-eyes. "Merry, you do not see it. Or perhaps you cannot, as yet. Let me enlighten you. If you and I fell in love, then long before we were ready to be parted, you would die. I would endure having to watch you age and wither. Eventually, you would leave me behind, heartbroken, for the Halls of Mandos. Perhaps, while life lasted, we would have love and joy. But," he placed a hand on her shoulder warningly, "I would be called a perverse elf, having, er, what is that Mannish phrase? Oh, yes. Having robbed the cradle, I could never again be respected among my people. I could perhaps never sail to Tol Erressëa. It is not a wise union, that of elf and mortal. Yes," Legolas held up a hand to stave off her questions, "I know of those matches that have improved the fortunes of both races. But such, I fear, is not the case here. Please, Gelireth, do your best to see what I am trying to tell you."

The seventeen-year-old thought for a while, torn betwixt love and grief, acceptance and denial. "I know," she said at last, placing her own hand on the elf's thin shoulder. "I know."

"Merry," Legolas continued, eager now. "Someday you will find the man you keep seeing out of the corner of your eye. Someday he will be yours. And he will love you and cherish you as no one else can or should."

"I know," the girl mumbled, even as a tear of regret, loss, and perhaps joy slid down her cheek. "I know."

Legolas pulled her into his arms, and they embraced for a long moment. Merry buried her face in his shoulder as she clung to him. He was her anchor in a sea beset by waves the size of the Empire State Building. She held on as if he was the only thing keeping her from breaking. At last they parted, and Merry crawled back into bed. The grey wolf curled up on the covers at her back.

_It is not good to always be alone_, he thought to her drowsily. _After all you have been through, you – and I – need a friend. _Smiling sleepily, Merry wrapped and arm about the wolf's neck and fell into dreams once more.

* * *

**Author's Note: So your authoress finally dragged her patookas to the Renaissance Faire and bought bracers, a teal gypsy half-shirt, a bodice, and a pegasus ear ornament (not earring). She is very happy. We also have a new pet, Caspian. He will be staying with us indefinitely. Review! XP**


	28. Kidnapped!

****

Inwe – You seem to have major muse problems.

**Disclaimer: I rule the world!!**

* * *

Merry spent the next few weeks recuperating further. Slowly she grew well enough to go for short walks along the corridors or outside among the rows of trees, always accompanied by Legolas or one of the sons of Elrond. Out of a desire to spare them all from further embarrassment, no one mentioned the kiss or what had transpired after. Relations with Jack were still strained. The teenage boy spent most of his time with Æthelflædd and was roundly cursed and abused in his absence by the sons of Elrond and Legolas. In front of Merry they called him only "twit", but when she wasn't present, the words and insults were far worse.

The main reason for this was the obvious relationship forming between Jack and the other invalid. All three elves highly disapproved of this, especially Legolas. He had been present when she finally admitted to herself that she did like her best friend and personally though Jack ought to have noticed her feelings for him. As he hadn't p or if he had, he was ignoring it – and seemed to be focusing all of his attention on Æthelflædd, Legolas felt himself justified in showing the boy disfavor.

As far as anyone knew, Merry herself was oblivious to the soap opera-ish drama going on. She continued to treat both of the teenage paramours cordially and to absentmindedly remonstrate Elrohir each time he called Jack "twit".

Aragorn, after staying a week or so to ensure both girls would recover, decided to take his army and return home, pleased over the war against Mor Gurth. He had ridden away, happily unaware of the teenage troubles threatening to upset the peaceful security of the healing ward in Isengard.

Èomer, too, had returned home with his men, leaving a company of men and horses at Elladan's and the other healers' disposal, with the request they send them as an escort to Æthelflædd once the young woman was sufficiently healed.

Æthelflædd and Jack believed themselves to have fallen deeply in love. They rarely left each other's side and used pet names and kissed so frequently that no one could bear to be around the two of them for long. It wasn't only the elves who tended to avoid the lovebirds. Gradually, the other healers and soldiers followed their example and ran when they saw the two teenagers coming.

One day in the middle of all this trouble, Merry found herself taking as troll beneath the verdant canopy of leaves above her head, heading towards Orthanc, flute clutched loosely in her fingers. A tiara braid held part of her ebony hair off her faced, and the rest hung down about her shoulders, occasionally shedding and dropping hairs on her pale lavender gown. It was her first time alone in weeks out under the tress without an escort. Elladan, she knew, was busy tending to Æthelflædd, and Legolas and Elrohir were safely ensconced in the cellars with some bottles of undoubtedly fine wines. Seeing an opportunity for solitude, Merry had slipped out of her room and down to the Treegarth, violet eyes sparkling wit ha quiet sense of mischief. Thrilled to have a bit of peace, the young woman settled herself down beside a great elm. Merry folded her legs beneath her and ran her fingers over the flute's holes, fingering her scales and a few marching band show tunes. At last she put the flute to her flips and blew softly, sending a random relaxing lullaby-ish melody wafting its way through the trees.

It soothed the flautist's nerves, for unbeknownst to her friends, she did know about all the blooming romance between her best friend and her cell mate. It irked the seventeen-year-old, but she knew better than to take it too personally.

_What's a girl to do? _Merry thought with a weary sigh. _Who's a girl supposed to fall in love with?_

_Having relationship problems? _asked her Voice of Reason in a snide tone.

_What do you want? _the teenager snapped back peevishly. _Why do you always have to be bothering me?_

The Voice ignored her questions and continued on smugly. _You never can have a healthy relationship with a guy, can you? First, you're thirteen and in love with Legolas, but you know it can't happened and don't say anything. Then you grow up mostly alone and fall for your bets friend, who doesn't have a clue for over two years. And when Legolas comes back into your life, you begin to dream of an elf again. You can't help it; he's gorgeous and kind and funny and everything you have ever wanted in a guy. Only he is an elf and over a thousand years of age, and he will live forever. You, my dear you chicken, are seventeen. You are approaching our prime and will b past it in fifteen or twenty years. You _are _going to die sometime._

_But I still love him!_

_You are infatuated with him. You think he is the most wonderful person in the world. You are still a girl with a girl's crush. _Not _an adult. Not yet. Legolas loves you, Mer, but as a sister and friend. Not the way _you _want him to like you._

Merry had long since abandoned her music, the flute flying listlessly in her lap. S he sat at attention, hands folded atop the flute, staring off among the trees at something only she could see: scenes seemed to be playing in the woods. Ghostly figures met and embraced, laughed and quarreled, cried and parted. The girl bit her lip as s he beheld their actions, tears poling in her eyes. She was seeing all of her most memorable encounters with both Jack and Legolas: freeing the elf from fan-girls, her eighth-grade graduation, racing Jack over the summer at equestrian camp, walking into her bedroom and finding the elf there.

_I have to do something, _she thought at last, wringing her hands in anxiety. _IO can't forever be in limbo, torn between two crushes and rejected by them both. Valar, I'm starting to sound like my Voice. That can't be good. Really, though, why can't I ever have a crush on someone and have them like me back? Just for once._

_I am sorry if I have distressed you, _her Voice said somberly. _That was not my intention, youngling. I just wanted you to be sensible for once, Merry. Too look at the situation and decide your course with reason and logic._

_Voice, _Merry thought with more than a little touch of irony, _haven't you learned by now that I rarely make my decisions sensibly with reason and logic? That in fact to do so is so much against my character that I consider it blasphemy?_

_You are flighty and impulsive, _censured the Voice, as rude as it ever had been. _You ought to set your cap at one boy, not a boy and an elf. You aspire too high, as ever. You want too much._

_Aye, _the young woman replied resentfully. _I am a dreamer and a music-maker. A creator and doer of deeds. I am hot and passionate and fiery. I will not conform or obey or be sensible._

Moved to anger, she rose and set to pacing, holding her flute in clenched fingers, eyes narrowed dangerously. Merry rarely got on well with her Voice, and their quarrels usually sent her into a dark rage, if she was not headed off early enough. Behind all the fury was a sense of grief and despair that was partly due to the drama going on but mostly left-over emotional exhaustion from her ordeal. The flautist felt a need to leave Isengard, to ride on a long journey through fen and forest to Rivendell with Legolas and the twins. She wanted everything to be as it once had been, when she was a thirteen-year-old girl in their protection, accept by the world as a friendly peculiarity. Although beset by her conscience, a secret part of Merry longed to leave Jack behind or to send him home. She did not like mixing her two worlds and lives. It had been much easier when everything had its own place, or compartment, if you will, and stayed there.

"My lady!"

Merry whirled, her free hand going instinctively to the dagger she now wore on her belt at all times. Spotting the intruder, she relaxed, even if only slightly. It was one of the healers, tall, blond, and ruddy with blue eyes and tunic. Merry gently released the dagger and schooled her expression into one of placid tranquility, hiding her inner unrest with unnatural skill.

"Yes?" The girl smiled kindly at the healer, sure her dagger was hidden by an over-wide girdle she had take to wearing with the sorts of dresses they kept supplying her with. It wouldn't do to let them know she carried a weapon at all times, especially not if members of Mor Gurth were still around, which she rather suspected, having not seen their dead bodies with her own eyes. S he had not even Legolas of her thoughts on this, but the dagger never left her hip except when she changed clothes.

"What are you doing, walking in the Treegarth, unescorted? Shame, miss. You could get hurt without someone to watch over you. What will the prince and the sons of Elrond say?"

Merry mentally rolled her eyes and hit herself on her forehead with her palm.

"I am sure they will not worry overmuch," she said sweetly, wishing people would learn to leave her alone when she desired solitude.

"Do they even know you are out here unaccompanied?" the healer continued to scold.

"No," the seventeen-year-old retorted fiercely. "But it is not as if I am in danger."

"Oh really?" asked an icy voice behind her.

Even as Merry turned to discern who had spoken, an unbreakable grip settled itself about her windpipe and squeezed, hard. The girl struggled for a moment, then fell limp and still against her captor as everything faded to black.

**Well?**


	29. Self Recrimination

**Inwe – Your muse is more fickle than a pair of Siamese cats.**

**Ames – I am taunting you. Your cat snores? Really?**

**Pippin Baggins – As long as my fingers will type, I shall throw you cliffhangers.**

**Eavis – My apologies. Bad habit, those cliffhangers.**

**Disclaimer: I own aching arms, a sore ankle, and all the wine Legolas and Elrohir didn't drink… which isn't much.**

* * *

Elladan washed his hands in the porcelain bowl on the little oaken washstand in his bedroom and wiped them on the cotton cloth beside it, frowning slightly. A mere half hour's tending Æthelflædd while Jack looked on anxiously had taken the tuck out of him. It was nearly impossible to change someone's bandages whilst their supposed lover looked on and cried out at the merest sight of blood or hint of a wince, and extremely frustrating to try. Only through the ellon's extreme patience had he managed to keep from screaming at the pair of them. Now the elder son of Elrond seriously needed a drink, but first he had to check on Merry.

Tucking a strand of his dark hair behind one pointed ear, Elladan made his way along the hall. Quietly, so as not to wake the girl if she was sleeping, he knocked on the door and waited for a response. None came. The elf knocked once more, louder, and then with a shrug entered the room. It was empty of Merry and clean, unlike the usual mess she left when she went out. He frowned in puzzlement, glancing around the room from the neatly made bed with its patchwork quilt to the chair and organized piles of books, clothes, and weapons. One thing only was missing: her flute.

A soft breeze touched his cheek, teasing his hair out from behind his ear. Smiling unconsciously, Elladan turned to find the source of the gentle wind.

The window was wide open.

Instantly, all sense of happy security vanished. The elf crossed to the window in three quick strides and looked out. It was a ten-foot drop to the ground below, but one marked with easy hand- and footholds. He could make out the marks of soft footprints in the mud at the base of the stone wall.

Elladan murmured a curse under his breath and swung one leg over the casement. The other limb soon followed it. The ellon perched carefully on the windowsill, then took a deep breath and jumped. He landed, knees bent, and took off following the footprints, taking great care to leave none himself.

They led him deep into the Treegarth, winding their way beneath elms and beeches, occasionally ending in a round, crumpled patch of grass, then picking up again on the other side of the tree. Elladan followed Merry's twisting path to nearly the middle of the forest, where it suddenly disappeared. Ten minutes passed as he searched for her trail, going back along it to see if she had turned around and walked in some other direction. At last completely frustrated, the ellon headed back to their lodgings, running as only an elf can when pressed.

He scrambled up the wall and through the window, not even pausing to catch his breath before taking off again, racing through the halls to find Legolas and Elrohir. They were, as Merry had known, in the cellars, drinking liberally from the wine barrels and laughing over old times.

"Elladan, what's all the fuss and bother about?" asked his younger brother merrily, eyes somewhat over bright from all the spirits.

"Merry," Elladan panted, hands braced on his knees. "She's gone."

Both pairs of eyes, one green, one gray, met his own with frightening intensity. Legolas's mug crashed to the floor, and Elrohir set his down with a startled clunk.

"What?"

"How?"

Elladan took a long, deep breath. "I went to check on her after tending to the other girl. Her room was empty, the window open. Tracks led through the Treegarth until suddenly disappearing near the eastern quadrant. I kept searching, hoping, praying that I would find another footprint, that perhaps in my haste I had missed something." The ellon sighed, a look of exhausted sorrow on his angular features. "There was nothing. Merry has vanished without a trace," he paused carefully, then continued, "again."

Legolas rose quickly, the wine not having affected his movement as yet. One hand on the hilt of his hunting knife, the wood elf strode to the door and then halted, green cat-eyes blazing.

"We ought to look again," Elrohir said quickly, looking pleadingly at both his brother and his friend. "Just in case you missed something. We shouldn't jump to conclusions. You know how Merry is about tricking us and what not."

Elladan swallowed hard and shook his head. "No, I am quite sure I didn't miss anything. Oh, I wish I had. But I don't think I did."

Eyes still lit up, Legolas broke in, "You two may not have heard this, but one of the soldiers reported seeing a few unidentified persons slipping away into the trees after the battle. The man in question pursued them, but they eluded him."

"Meaning?" snapped the younger son of Elrond.

"Mor Gurth wasn't obliterated," breathed Elladan.

Legolas nodded painfully.

"Do you know who or exact numbers?"

"One or two, maybe three. The soldier unfortunately was not specific."

Legolas was unused to failure. He had never let an enemy escape due to his own mistakes, especially when they ought to have been easily vanquished. The elf had been defeated by the orcs in Parth Galen and Moria, but never before had something like this happened. Merry had disappeared again, most likely kidnapped, and it was his fault. If only he had gone after the fugitives the moment he had learned of them, if only he had learned of their escape sooner…if only he had been quicker with his bow, if only they had not gone to drink, trusting Merry to keep herself out of trouble.

He ground his palms into his eyes and mumbled, "I should have known. I ought to have realized we couldn't leave her alone. She has never behaved once left to her own devices. She could never stay out of trouble or where we left her. Why did I think she would do so now?"

"Legolas, it is not your fault," Elladan said reassuringly. "And besides, no matter where the blame lies, we ought to find Merry first. Discuss blame after. Valar! If we don't act now, the captor will get even further away.

Elrohir, too, rose now. The three elves quit the cellar, faces grim, hands adjusting the straps and sheaths of their various weapons. They conversed in low, tense, dangerous voices, discussing plans and means. The first thing to do was to calmly go and follow Merry's footprints, in the rare chance that Elladan _had_ missed something.

The party ran into one of the healers on their way back to Merry's room.

"My lord Elladan," he began, "Lady Æthelflædd and Master Jackson require your attendance. Apparently she is experiencing discomfort."

"Damn her discomfort," snapped Elladan tersely. Even the great sons of Elrond have limits to their patience, and Elladan was at the end of his rope with the two besotted teenagers. "Meredith is missing. Gone. Vanished. Forgive me if her life matters more than Æthelflædd's comfort."

"But, my lord" –

Legolas shot the healer a don't-make-me-shoot-you glare, learned from the master of evil looks herself, Merry. The unfortunate man immediately clamped his jaws shut and nodded. "Right, my lords. Er, shall I, er" –

"The three of us are going to look for her. We ought to be back by sundown." It was five in the afternoon. "Send a man to us in Meredith's room then," Elrohir ordered.

The three elves continued on their way to the missing girl's chambers. The canvassed it quickly, looking for evidence, and then the other two followed Elladan out the window.

No one spoke as the elves made their way through the trees, each intent on the faint footprints in the grass before them and the whirling thoughts in their heads. Each elf felt sick worry in the pit of their stomachs. The sons of Elrond, who had been the ones to rescue Merry in the first place, knew all too well the feeling of horror they'd had upon finding her, and dreaded the idea of a repeat.

Legolas was overwhelmed with a terrible guilt. He ought to have looked after Merry better, ought to have taken better care of her. This was the second time she had been kidnapped while in his care, and a hard, unforgiving part of the elf refused to let him believe it was anything but his fault. Tears were swimming in his eyes as the cruel voice in the back of his mind belittled him.

_You aren't worth anything, _the voice hissed. _The son expendable enough to be sent on a quest most likely doomed to failure. Captured by a host of children and rescued by another child. You have never been normal. You are abnormal and unnatural. You are weak. You cannot protect your dearest friend in all the worlds from that which should be so easily dispatched. And yet you quiver and fail at the test. You will never be as strong or great or good as your companions. Even the girl-child outshines you in the eyes of the people. Her name will last long after yours is forgotten._

_Avo bedo, _Legolas thought forcefully. He had come to the end of the trail, and his misery had reached such a point that he was physically sick. _Avo bedo!_

_I will not silence myself, weakling, _spat the voice. _You are a disgrace to your father, to the kingdom, to all the elves that have ever walked under stars and moon. You are worth nothing. You are lower than the worms crawling and gnawing their way through battlefield cadavers. You are scum, unworthy of the blessings of your race._

"Legolas! Look at this!"

The wood elf blinked hazily, and the forest swam back into view. Elladan and Elrohir had come up to him while he had been lost in his reverie.

"Look." Elladan held out a crumpled, muddy piece of parchment. Legolas took it and read the message.

_Lads –_

_Once again you have failed to protect your ward, and once again I have her in my keeping. Do not worry; this time the abomination will die._

_Pilimòr_

Legolas let out a heart-rending, inhuman cry and sank to the earth, shaking in paroxysms anger and grief.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry, ladies and gentlefish. I just felt like making things complicated. A little angst feels called for. Review?**


	30. Curses!

**Inwe – Who else is on the Hit List of DOOM?**

**Krys – I love cliffhangers. They're just so much fun.**

**Disclaimer: As much as I would love to say otherwise, I don't own Rings.**

* * *

When the runner came to visit the three elves at sundown, he found quite a disparaging sight. Elladan sat at the desk, swiftly penning a note in firm, dark strokes. Lying stretched across the bed, Elrohir glanced about at nothing, his eyes hard and cold with pent-up rage. Legolas paced back and forth before the open window, golden hair tossed by the breeze. His green eyes were sharp and dangerous, slightly red from crying. All their clothes looked mussed, as did the elves' normally perfect hair. Only their bows, swords, and knives were in place and ready.

"My lords," began the man hesitantly, "I was told to attend you at this time."

"Here." Elladan rose, extending the note he had written. "If we fail to return, take this to Èomer."

Elrohir rose from the bed and came over to the two of them. "Do not look for a speedy return," he said, voice as hard as his eyes. "However, if we have not returned by the end of a week…"

"The time to send the message has come," Legolas cut in, turning from the wind.

The man nodded hurriedly and quit the room, wisely afraid of these terrible elves with merciless eyes and grim faces.

As he left, the teenage boy Jack Shetland pushed in the door, brown eyes angry, scowling fiercely.

"What is your problem?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Æthelflædd does not feel well. She needs a healer now. One of you bloody help her!"

Legolas rounded on the boy with fearsome ferocity, teeth bared, eyes alight with green flames. "Merry is gone," he spat, and there was such venom in his voice that the teenager took a step back.

"Wha - ?"

"Merry has been kidnapped again," Elladan informed him wearily, wishing the miserable boy would just go away.

"I'll go find her" –

"No. You will stay here with the other twit so she doesn't do anything stupid." The order was firm. Elrohir had little patience for dramatics and hysterics.

"But" –

"No." Legolas refused to listen to the boy's protests. Panicked thoughts of his own incompetence kept him from any attempt at fairness.

"Come, friends." Elrohir led the way out the door, shoving past Jack. "We have no time to waste on fools."

"How dare you?" Jack sputtered. "I'll have you know that" –

But the elves were nearly the entire way out the door, all three ignoring him.

"Twit," Elrohir called back as a parting shot, then the elves were gone off to find their lost charge. They could only hope they would arrive in time.

* * *

Merry was slow in coming back to herself. Part of her, even half-unconscious, remained aware as she was bundled onto a horse and carried away. Her subconscious busied itself in plotting, going over all the ways to cause elves pain that she knew of. If push came to shove, Merry was quite prepared to moo the Star-Spangled Banner again. She only hope the need for such an action would not present itself.

When she finally opened her eyes, Merry found herself in a dark, cool cave. Bound hand and foot, the teenager could not make an escape or even call for help – the idiots had gagged her as well.

"Awake?" laughed a terribly familiar voice.

In keeping with form, Merry embarked on a long, dramatic speech all about her terror and horror and discomfort, neatly plagiarized from some book she had once read. All the while, she plotted furiously, inauspiciously testing her bonds. She was halfway through a tirade on his (albeit nonexistent) pimples when she remembered the gag and fell into a sulky silence, annoyed that he had been unable to hear her eloquence. The irritating elf chuckled, only increasing her bad temper. Eyes aglow with malice, Merry hauled off and really let him have it, displaying her prized collection of strange curses, insults, and expletives in Sindarin, Quenya, Westron, Khudzul, English, Spanish, and French that was the secret pride and joy of her education.

The once-cocky elf lord stared as she coolly ordered him to do something anatomically impossible with a troll, somehow managing to make herself quite clear despite the gag.

"What did you say?" he demanded, seemingly producing a cat-o'-nine-tails from nowhere.

Merry responded with another suggestion even cruder than the first. He flinched, then brandished the whip threateningly. Cocking an eyebrow, she issued a silent challenge to her captor.

"You coward," she murmured softly, in between curses. "Strong enough to hurt a girl but not strong enough to stand up to her friends. Then again, I really don't blame anyone for being afraid to stand up to my friends."

"Don't make me hurt you, spawn of Morgoth," he threatened silkily.

She threw back her dark hair and laughed. The gag got in the way. "D'Arvit!"

Few things are as frustrating as a gag, especially when one has declarations of particular emotions to get out of the way. Seeing no alternative, Merry knew she had to get rid of the gag before this showdown could continue further. She lifted her bound hands to her face and twisted, yanked, jerked, and wriggled until the wretched thing came off. Ah! She could breathe at last.

"Me, the spawn of Morgoth?" she snapped in open contempt. "You feculent maggot, I'll have your guts for garters, you pestilential, traitorous cow-hearted yeasty codpiece!"

He gazed down at her in fury, but Merry really didn't care.

_It isn't the size of the dog in the fight, _she thought, quoting Dwight Eisenhower for the first and last time in her life, _but the size of the fight in the dog. And I'll bet you I have more fight in me._

"Hiya! Take that, you poxy cur!" the girl shrieked, kicking him in the gonads and making a run for it.

She had unfortunately forgotten that her legs were bound. The runaway made it about ten yards, then tripped over her own feet and tumbled to the ground.

Pilimór was really furious now. The dark elf strode from the cave, a wicked dagger held in one hand. The time to play with his prey had passed. He would kill her now.

"Oy! Get away from her!"

Charging through the trees came three elves, dreadful in their wrath. Legolas dropped to one knee at her side.

"What," he grunted angrily, cutting her bonds, "did I tell you about running when hobbled? If it doesn't work for a warhorse, it certainly won't work for you."

"Sorry," Merry mumbled sheepishly.

"Oh, you'll be sorry all right when we get you back home," the wood elf growled. "I have more than half a mind to lock you in with the love struck twits."

"Anything but that!" she mouthed in true horror.

Meanwhile, Elladan and Elrohir had sprinted on, swords drawn, to attack Pilimór. All chivalry and honor forgotten, they circled him together, moving in perfect synchronization. No longer a worthy foe, the elves regarded their opponent as vermin. He was a viper to be eradicated before he further wrecked their happy lives. So flustered was he by the twins' tactics that Pilimór made a very foolish mistake five minutes into the duel. Elrohir slipped under his guard and ran his sword through his stomach and out his spine.

"Shame you fouled your blade so," Elladan commented, observing the dark elf's death throes with a careless eye.

Frowning, Elrohir wiped his blade on a patch of moss at the base of a rowan. "Scum. Utter scum." He turned to look at Merry. "You okay?"

"I want to go home."

"Excellent idea. The twins and I are getting rather sick of looking after you. You are more of a headache than a nursery full of hungry hobbit babies."

"Thanks." Merry looked away from the body and cast about for something to say. "Did you bring horses, or are we walking?"

"_We_ have horses. _You _are going to have to double up with Legolas. Unless you'd rather walk, of course…" Elladan suggested casually.

"Not at all. I just want to get the heck out of Dodge, as it were."

The four left the dead elf where he lay. Scavengers would tend to his remains for them. A clearing or two away, three horses waited patiently, tethered to the limbs of trees. The elves swung into the saddle, and Legolas pulled Merry up behind him. Reminiscing about old times, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. With a quiet snigger, the twins exchanged looks.

They rode a long while without saying much. At last Merry forced herself to make a rather difficult confession.

"You know, boys," she began tentatively, the beginnings of an evil smile playing about her mouth, "I've had it with Jack Shetland. From now on, feel free to call him twit and anything else you like. I don't care for his attitude or his behavior."

"You know he's jealous of you," Legolas said suddenly, surprising his companions. Thus far, he had spoken less than all the rest.

"Heh?" Merry was completely nonplussed.

"Jack. He has always outshone you. It discomforts him to find your roles so utterly switched." Merry was still giving him the I-am-so-confused-what-the-ruddy-hey-are-you-talking-about look, so Legolas sighed and explained further. "He is a teenager human male and usually acts as such teenage human males typically act. He thinks (or behaves as if he does) that his sex makes him superior to you. And the twit is far too used to being thought superior."

Merry started at him blankly, slack-jawed in amazement. "How do you know all that?" she asked weakly.

With a broad wink, Legolas laughed in reply. "I'm an elf."

* * *

**Author's Note: Next-to-last chapter, mates, I'm afraid. This story just needs to end. And after this one, I don't quite think I'll write any more Merry stories. Maybe a one-shot now and then... but prolly not.**


	31. End of All Things

**Disclaimer: For the final time, I do not own Lord of the Rings.**

* * *

The four friends spent the rest of the ride back debating whether elves really were better than humans. It was the other three against Merry, and the girl was hard-pressed to make her point when her opponents kept demonstrating their flexibility and health and ageless beauty. The twins would contort themselves into impossible positions while reciting epic poetry with over ten thousand stanzas. Legolas aimed his bow at every impossible mark and hit them all perfectly, smirking all the while. Quickly realizing she could never hope to out do them, Merry instead contented herself with pointing out their faults: pride, perfection, and a propensity to get angry and act stupidly. All rolled their eyes and termed their friends fools, but no one attempted to pretend they were no enjoying themselves.

Shortly after midday, Orthanc and the Treegarth came into view. Everyone's head came up, and their eyes filled with longing.

"I'm hungry," declared Elrohir, speaking for them all.

"Food and fire and drink and bed," Legolas added eagerly.

"And rest." Elladan had never sounded so exhausted in his life.

"And song and name-calling and insulting the twit," Merry put in with a yawn.

"Race?" Elrohir suggested.

"Last one back's a fewmet!" called the teenager, and the rest were off.

Burdened as he was with two riders, Legolas's mount struggled vainly to keep up. Suddenly he got his second wind. The stallion's stride grew larger and faster, until he passed the other two, neighing loudly. With a broad grin, Elladan pulled a horn from his saddlebow and wound it. After a long, deep breath, he blew. The call that emanated from the horn plucked at one's heartstrings. It was a joyful call, that of the hunter triumphant, the warrior victorious, the king in his glory. The other riders called out to their horses, urging them on even as Elladan slowly removed the horn from his lips.

"Look!" Legolas shouted as they galloped through the avenues of trees, his keen eyes spotting movement long before anyone else noticed it. "The twit and his lady."

Sure enough, Jack and Æthelflædd were sitting together under a large sycamore, hands interwoven in her lap. They stared in wonder as the horses galloped past them, their riders singing and laughing.

" Mae govannen," Elrohir called to them as they reigned in their horses and dismounted smoothly. "Twits," he added under his breath so only his friends could hear.

Although her eyes gleamed with amusement, Merry maintained a straight face. She leapt off the horse. Legolas caught the girl and set her down on the grass gently, laughing.

"Merry!" Jack shouted, leaping to his feet. "Are you… are you all right?"

"As all right as can be expected," she answered smoothly.

Her friends lead their horses away, glancing back now and then to remind her to catch up. Without another look at Jack, Merry sprinted off after them.

"Oh, and Jack," the flautist called just before catching up with the elves. "We're going home at dawn tomorrow. If you aren't ready, I have no problems with leaving you here."

Jack and Æthelflædd stare after her in shock as the young woman rejoined her companions and joined in teasing Elladan. This was not the bored, strange teenager from Earth or the broken creature huddling in its cell. This was Meredith Lee Wood in perfect contentment, basking in her friends' affection. Meeting her was a new experience for both lovebirds, and it was all they could do not to scratch their heads in bewilderment at it.

* * *

Merry, Legolas, and the twins spent the evening in each other's company for what they felt was the last time. Beside the crackling fire, stories were retold, memories revisited, and vows of friendship renewed. The elves even let her have a sip of wine or two. This more than anything brought tears to Merry's eyes. She knew it was truly over, if they were allowing her to drink anything at all alcoholic.

"I don't want to leave you guys," she murmured near the close of the evening.

"There is no need to be maudlin. Everything must come to an end, child. You know this as well as we do. We always knew a day would come when the adventures would end. You need to be whole in your own world, not tossed and turned in ours. Savvy?"

The girl choked up. Elladan had never said 'savvy' before. His use of it made her truly maudlin.

"No hysterics now," Elrohir commanded. "It was very … educational to know you, and you'll be fine in your world. Please stop looking as if you're about to cry. It is very discomforting."

Legolas laid a hand on the teenager's shoulder. He gazed deep into her eyes, then chuckled softly. "Time to grow up, Meredith."

She glared at him. "Berk."

"That's the spirit!" exclaimed Elrohir.

They talked a while longer, but finally it came time for Merry to retire.

"Don't worry. We'll see you in the morning." Elladan enclosed her in a huge hug.

"Not all farewells are final," his brother pointed out, nosing in for his own hug.

Then they moved aside, and she stepped over to Legolas. He held her for a long while, her face buried in his bony shoulder.

"I'll miss you," she whispered, voice muffled.

"And I you. Remember, little one, we shall see you in the morning." The elf pushed her away. "Get some sleep. You have to deal with the twit in the morning."

Merry groaned. She was utterly sick of the twit.

* * *

It was with a great deal of annoyed irritation that Merry hauled herself up the stairs to Jack's room the next morning when he failed to present himself at dawn. She stormed alonge the passage and rapped sharply on the door, eyes narrowed in fury. When that did not call forth a response, she went ahead and opened it before marching in.

"Get up, you useless lump," she ordered, picking up a boot from off the floor and chucking it mercilessly at the sleeping form in the bed. "Up! Now! We have to talk."

"'Flaedd," Jack turned over and blinked blearily. "Oh. Merry. What the…?"

Merry snatched up another shoe and threw it at his chest. "I am going home now, and you are coming with me."

"But… Merry…. Aethelflaedd…"

"You never told her you would have to leave someday, did you?" the girl demanded, hands on hips. She was seriously considering chucking something else at his head but trying to demonstrate restraint.

"Er…"

"Well, if that's not just like you. Forgetting everything important up until the last moment. You cannot forget any longer. What is your plan, Jack? To stay here forever with your lady love? Or are you coming home with me?"

Jack's confusion and distress were obvious, but Merry felt no inclination to help him out of a tight spot. She merely watched him with all the scrutiny she possessed, glancing about for something to throw out of the corners of her eyes.

"I… I don't know," Jack moaned, fully caught up in his angst and agony.

Merry slowly reached down and picked another boot from off the floor. She would never understand why boys simply could **not** keep their rooms clean. It seemed no great difficulty to her, but then again boys were a conundrum. "Well, make up your mind," she said carelessly, holding the boot at arms' length, nose crinkled in distaste. "I must be going."

"I… Merry, I really do like 'Flaedd, you know. More than I have ever like a girl before. And this Middle-earth life she tells me of… I think it'd suit me fine."

The teenager sighed and let go of the boot in her hand. It hit Jack on the nose and bounced off. The boy let out a squawk and lifted a hand to his injured appendage.

"Could you really?" she asked keenly, watching him intently. "Could you give up your car? Air-conditioning, the Internet, video games? Indoor toilets? Showers and movies and I don't know what else?"

"Um…"

"That's what I thought. Come on, you lout." Ignoring his violent protests, Merry dragged her former best friend from his best. "I can't leave you here. You wouldn't be able to function properly, and I could never explain it to your mother. We are both going home… now."

"But what about Aethelflaedd and our belongings?"

"The boys – pardon me, elves – will explain that we had to make a quick getaway."

"What? Nooooo" –

But before he could finish his exclamation of displeasure, Merry twisted something in her mind, and they were gone.

_

* * *

_

**Epilogue:**

_Ding-dong_

Annoyed, the twenty-year-old college student dropped her advanced calculus textbook in order to answer the door. It inconveniently landed on her foot. Screwing up her strange violet eyes, the woman muttered a strangled expletive.

"Coming!" she shouted, rubbing her foot and limping to the apartment door. After twisting the deadbolt around, the injured female pulled it open. "Yes?"

"Meredith Wood?" Three odd men stood on her threshold. Each was freakishly tall and skinny. Their eyes shone in angular faces surrounded by waves of silky hair that were slightly longer than was fashionable.

"That's me. How may I help you?"

"What… do you not remember us?" The one who asked gazed at her questioningly with startling green eyes.

For the first time in many years, Meredith Wood fainted.

_Fin_


End file.
